


Imaginary Friend

by Ennee Gray (will_thewisp)



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama & Romance, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 100,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24911488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/will_thewisp/pseuds/Ennee%20Gray
Summary: A love story. Not so pure nor simple. Bellatrix Black is a witch and not a very light one. Bruce Wayne is a muggle and he is anything but simple.
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Bruce Wayne, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	1. Accidental Magic

**Author's Note:**

> A very long time ago I saw TDK, thought of Bellatrix and just had to write this. Then this all expanded and compounded. I can't believe I'm still writing this in 2020. I'm currently working on revisions. This first chapters have been revised and are now cross-posted between FF net and AO3. In total there are 8 chapters up for revision and 2 for writing.
> 
> Regarding Story World: I've taken a lot of liberties with the Black family tree and the supposed ages of the members - the story timeline and character ages are more in line with Batman Trilogy timeline. The story follows (will follow) mostly canon for Mr. Nolan's movies with some light adjustments up until the end of TDK. The magical theory and pureblood culture is inspired by many a fanfic that delved into the topic.

**May**

It was a beautiful day of May. The sky was brilliant blue, the weather was mild, and the inhabitants of the small town were taking full advantage of that. It was the weekend of the annual town fair.

The park where the fair was being held was full of families, couples, and groups of friends; there were colourful tents set beneath broad oaks and tall willows. Low swinging carousels, candy shops and contest tents were wherever eye turned – everything was colourful and there was laughter popping up on every corner.

A young, seemingly common, couple pushed through the bustling crowd or rather… The woman dragged her scowling companion along with her in the direction of the fortune teller’s tent.

"Druella, this is ridiculous," the man said for what felt like the hundredth time to him.

"It is a tradition, Cygnus," the woman replied indignantly keeping her march forward. "And we will go to see the wise woman as asked," her tone booked no room for argument, but, finally, she did pause a moment to glare at her husband to emphasize her feelings on the matter. This was important to her. It should be important to him too.

"We went there three years ago. What new is she going to tell us?" he asked pulling his arm from her grasp as unobtrusively as possible and stopping. They were in front of the seer's tent anyway. "That _now_ we have to come back after five instead of three years and that in the meantime seasons will change and it _just_ might rain?" Cygnus didn’t believe in prophecies. To be perfectly honest, he saw the whole field of Divination as utter rubbish and it was beyond him how his usually reasonable wife was so... so... _hooked_ on that drivel.

Still. He had come this far for her.

"It is a tradition to visit the wise woman as she asks. Everyone in my family has done so and nothing bad has ever come out of it …" she explained this to him for what felt like the millionth time.

"And has something of substance ever come out if it?" he queried right back just as expected.

Druella frowned, pursing her lips in a tight line as she switched tactics. "Of course, the traditions of my family are nothing compared to those of yours," she snapped, her body stiff and her tone curt. "Butchering old house elves as your sister does is a much more honourable custom than visiting a prophet," her French accent became more pronounced with her frustration – one topic of grievance paving way to another.

Cygnus sighed, giving in and breaking the circle. One might think that the Earl of Winterbourne-Basset caved too much before his young, foreign wife, and they might even be right. But Cygnus Black enjoyed a privilege that many of those who would judge his behaviour as undignified for a Wizarding Lord did not – he was in love with his wife.

And he had no wish to let this escalate into an argument about their families that would prompt Druella into publicly airing her grievances against her in-laws. Their conversation might be covered by Druella’s privacy shield charm, but their behaviour was on full display and he didn’t want speculations about their possible disagreement in the next edition of Daily Prophet’s society pages. Not while everyone was still talking about what had happened at Beltane.

And it was still a question how _that_ information had become public in the first place. Cygnus had his suspicions.

Anyhow, he had met this Madam Mynatt once before – she had been the priestess officiating the blessing on him and Druella on the eve of their wedding. He had been somewhat surprised that none of Druella’s other female relatives had stepped up for the role. Traditionally, a woman from a successful union within bride’s family was to deliver the blessing, so as to pass on her good luck, and Druella had three happily married sisters as well as her mother, the marquise, who was a veritable matriarch of the family, but, no, out of all of them – the female blessing had been delivered by an ancient fortune-teller.

Fortune-teller who hadn’t even told them any fortune. All that the old hag had told them had been to come find her three years hence.

"If you wish to consult her, dear, you can do so any time you desire," Cygnus said in attempt to pacify his wife and avoid involvement. "But _why_ do you have to drag me along?"

"She said that we need to come together," Druella smiled, sensing a victory. "And I will find a way to make this up to you," she fluttered her heavily lidded eyes and rolled the words in her mouth before speaking, giving them a low, throaty lilt. “Promise, dearest.”

That tone spoke of more promises than the bare words conveyed and Cygnus couldn’t even fake a scowl. He smiled right back at his young Countess and kissed her hand before tucking it under his. “As you wish,” he acquiesced, and they ducked into the low entrance of the tent before them.

As all Wizarding tents – this one was larger on the inside too. Negligibly, but still so. The light was low. As soon as the tent door flopped closed behind them, all sound from outside world died. There was a scent of something in the air – Cygnus couldn’t quite place it, but it left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. _Wards._

There was a raised dais in the middle of the tent. A low table surrounded by cushions was in the centre of it. An antique oil lamp illuminated the painted scenes on the top of the table. The fortune-teller sat on the opposite end and didn’t even glance up to greet her visitors – she was busy laying out cards.

“Madam?” Druella ventured respectfully.

“I have been waiting for you,” the prophet responded and only then looked up. Her watery gaze took in and measured them, and only then she finally gestured for them to take their seats.

_She has certainly increased the dramatics of her act,_ Cygnus thought, uncharitably, as Druella pulled him forward.

A young boy with curiously pointed ears came forward and placed silver goblets in front of them before pouring a drink. Cygnus grimaced, looked at the concoction, and didn’t bother touching it. He strongly suspected that a part of the trick of the trade for the fortune teller was lacing her clients with potions that made them susceptible to suggestions or just plain more likely to believe her.

A few minutes thus passed and the earlier compliance Druella had coaxed out of him waned. He felt young and important enough to indulge his ill humour. “Shall we come back another time, perhaps? Say in another couple of years?”

Druella held in a huff and elbowed him discreetly.

There was another moment before the seer spoke. “No.” She glanced up at the Earl, “After today you will not see me ever again.”

Druella vowed in silence to kick her husband if he had offended the seer that had advised the women of her family for generations. “Madam, please…”

The old witch’s pale blue eyes locked on Druella, “Three times you’ve been named Queen of May on Beltane,” it was not a question. “Three daughters you shall have.”

Druella felt breath catch in her throat. Excitement and trepidation made shivers run down her spine. The seer was respected by her family for she had never told a falsehood. And while it was known that she had been named Queen this year by the Black witches, the information about the previous years wasn’t public. _Her words must be true,_ she thought.

“The Strong one, the Light one, the Sweet one,” Mynatt continued without a pause. Her gaze turned to Cygnus, “Strength will flee, light will darken, and sweetness will turn sour.”

Cygnus opened a mouth to protest, to comment, but he didn’t manage to get a sound out before the prophecy continued. He felt circulation leave his fingers as Druella squeezed his hand tighter with every word that the seer said.

“All of them must be lost before any can be regained. That is what must come to pass else come the fall of the House of Black.”

“Ridiculous!” Cygnus spat. Anger rose like a wave in him. Out of all the things he had half-expected to hear that day, the prediction that his entire Family would perish wasn’t one of them. He didn’t _believe_ in prophecies, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t a threat in the old witch’s words. He was a Black. The words the woman spoke were grounds enough for a duel.

“Neither light nor sweet can last without strength. Should the eldest fall - it will be the end of all,” there was no emotion in the Mynatt’s voice. She said it flat. As if reading a fact from a textbook.

Druella grabbed her goblet with her free hand and gulped down the drink before her. What she heard wasn’t an advice. It was foretelling of a doom.

“Lies,” Cygnus snarled ready to take apart Mynatt’s words and then the witch herself. He sought to retrieve his hand from Druella, but she kept his palm hostage, squeezing the life out of it, and making him stay put.

“I do not lie,” the frail, old witch hissed with strength that belied her appearance. The ferocity of her tone made Cygnus pause. “Two score years won’t go by and my words will have come true. Ignore them at your own peril.”

“What would you have us do?” Druella finally found her voice. “What _can_ we do?”

The old witch’s gaze softened by several degrees as she turned it upon Druella. “The path that goes to a better future begins in a past so old it has passed into legend, but not yet into a myth.”

“I do not understand,” Druella beseeched while Cygnus frowned as an understanding came upon him.

Mynatt looked questioningly at Cygnus and the answer she saw in his face made her press on with her words, “Muggles, my lady. In the future that I see that is the world that must intersect paths with Strength. When she flees, that is where refuge is sure to be given. That is where Strength will find her Knight.”

“What answers are in the past?” Druella continued to question. “What do Muggles have to do with the past?”

“Don’t let Strength become a stranger,” Mynatt ignored the questions and issued a warning.

“What… I need more than that!” Druella turned a demand into a plea. “Please! You can’t tell me that I will lose all my daughters and give me just _that_ – I don’t understand! I need more! This is not enough!”

“Stop, my dear, stop,” Cygnus sought to calm his wife. “We have no children presently,” he said strongly. “We may yet have sons instead,” he continued. “ _This,_ ” he glared at the seer as he emphasised, “means _absolutely_ nothing.”

“No, Cygnus, I…”

Cygnus rose and pulled Druella with him. “We shall take our leave.”

“No, Cygnus,” Druella protested even as she let herself be pulled. “No, my Lord,” she used every avenue available to her to beseech him – friend, lover, protector. “We can’t end it like this. She said we won’t ever see her again; we need more information!” Druella argued even as she found herself leaning on her husband more than being pulled. _What was in that drink?_ She felt her agitation dying down even as she knew she should… she should…

“Druella…. Druella… _Dearest…_ ,” she heard him, but she blinked away the unnatural calm only when he called her to duty by addressing her by her title. “My Lady.”

“Yes.”

“Use your portkey. Make the elf call for a Healer. I will be along shortly,” he made his instructions clear and succinct.

“I…” she wavered and forgot what it was that she meant to say. “Yes,” all she wanted in the world was to lie down and sleep. To dream away all the terrible things that she had heard on this day. She drew strength and clarity from the worry in her lord’s eyes. She tapped a ruby on her bracelet with her wand. She was gone in an instant. Cygnus’ lips kissed air instead of her forehead.

As soon as Druella vanished, Cygnus turned on the spot. His wand clutched in his hand and unmasked fury in his face.

“You may kill me as you intend, but it will not make my words any less true,” Mynatt spoke before Cygnus could utter a word.

“You’ve threatened my Family and offered insult to my Lady by lacing her drink,” he spat. There was no court that would convict him if he were to act on his impulse. To tell the truth, this act might even heal the breach between him, and his sister caused by Druella’s crowning this last Beltane.

“I’ve offered you advice, and healing to the young mistress,” Mynatt countered. “Her condition is delicate. I did not mean to insult, just calm any harmful emotions.”

The words were on the tip of his tongue. The fortune-teller had made no move to defend herself. Even the boy who had served them earlier wasn’t here. He could end her, and nothing would stop him. “You’re dangerous.”

“So says the Wizarding Lord holding the wand,” she replied.

Cygnus hesitated. He had never killed before. All young lords of the House of Black were trained in duelling arts, but… He had never killed before. All that he knew of protocol, of expectations – what his own rage told him – trembled before the monumental decision. “How do I know any of what you said is true?”

“You knew what I meant when I said to look to the past.”

“No,” Cygnus shook his head. He protested. Vehemently. Yet in contrast his wand lowered. “No.”

“Deny it all you want; we both know your words are empty for your lands still hold Avalon’s secrets.”

“Those are ancient tales,” he still deflected.

“The crowns that were ceded still lie next to the one to whom they were sworn. The power of old oaths runs through the blood of your House. It would be wise to heed it.”

“If there is any truth in it, then it is that it failed. Court of Camelot failed,” Cygnus replied. This conversation touched upon subjects that just _were not_ discussed.

The old seer sighed. “Truth be told, I do not like you, I do not like oath breakers. I would not have spoken if not for young Druella for I have nothing but respect for her mother, the Marquessa Rossier,” she pinned Cygnus down with her gaze, “There is an ancient power about to be born again. Follow the path set forth by your betters or lose everything.”

“That was different,” Cygnus put up a hand as if that would be a barrier against what he was hearing. “Those times were different and it’s _ancient_ history.”

“Doesn’t make it untrue,” Mynatt countered.

“No one else would go for it,” he said, and knew it to be true. Even in their world – there were things that were forgotten, buried and no longer practiced.

“My words are not for all,” the seer corrected calmly. “They are for _you_ – do with them what you will but know – once Blacks believed in it so much that they conceded their crown. Surely your daughter is worth no less to you.”

_I don’t have a daughter,_ Cygnus thought, but the words never made it to his lips. “I am not the Head of the House of Black. I have no power over the entire Family.”

“Yet curiously your choices will determine their fate, Lord Black.”

“Curiously,” Cygnus repeated quietly.

“You don’t need the Isle of Avalon in your possession to effect change. You are a Black,” Mynatt sighed and relented. “Be comforted in the knowledge that you are not the one marked for a great change. You just have to choose which way you do your part and the rest will fall as it must.”

Cygnus shook his head like shaking away a spell. “I hope the words you spoke about us never meeting again were true. I will not promise you our wands will not cross if we do.”

“Don’t fret young lord. We shall never meet again,” Mynatt promised.

Cygnus left.

“I pray you choose wisely.”

BBRBW

**September**

It had been months since the Earl and his Countess had returned from France. Cygnus would have expected to have long since forgotten about the visit to Madam Mynatt – except… Everything had changed since that day. His Lady was pregnant. All healers concurred that they were to have a daughter.

This was supposed to be a happy time. This was joyous news. A child in the Family. And both Cygnus and Druella smiled to all who congratulated them, they smiled at each other, yet... He had seen the shadows in his wife’s eyes – how her hand trembled as it lay upon her belly when she thought he wasn’t looking. _She shouldn’t fear losing the babe before she even holds her,_ he hated the fortune telling witch with a passion every time he caught such a moment.

And yet – he couldn’t deny that he was terrified as well. He didn’t believe in prophecies. Or rather – he wished he could afford to not believe in prophecies. Divination was such a lost art in the Isles that it was barely a parlor trick. There hadn’t been a true Seer for centuries.

As days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months, he became more wrought as he struggled to come to a decision. He was a practical man and he was loath to ignore a possibility as unlikely as it was, while at the same time – everything he knew to be right and proper in the world said that he would be a fool to risk all that he had, to turn against the rest of the Family.

“Cygnus!” Druella blasted the doors of her husband’s study and any and all protocols with a careless wave of her wand and a cheerful, excited voice. Her face was flushed in excitement as she strode towards her lord.

The first glance told him that the love of his life was unharmed. The second glance was a calm assessment of the heavy, two-part mahogany door that now barely hung on the hinges on either side of the door aisle. "Where's the fire, dear?" he asked, rising from his chair calmly.

This was not the first such occasion of excessive display of magic. As Druella’s pregnancy progressed, she had more and more trouble controlling her magic as the unborn child’s powers mixed with hers. Cygnus was mildly worried about how these outbursts affected both his wife and daughter, but healers and his lady herself had assured him several times that the only suffering parties were inanimate objects.

Druella grabbed her husband’s hand and pressed the palm to her belly. “She kicked!”

And for a second there was nothing, and then he felt the movement. The absolute physical reality of it run through him like a strike of lightning. All the deliberations he had made before – vanished. It was the single movement of his unborn daughter that pushed him to his decision.

It had been so long since wizard-kind had had any meaningful interaction with Muggles that there was no up-to-date information available anywhere in the Wizarding world. That very afternoon Lord Cygnus Black Apparated to Muggle London and spent several hours locating Muggle bookstores. He took many books to help him understand the world he had been told to hate since he was a child. Because he needed to understand it – so that he could explore it – so that he would know how to teach his daughter not to hate it. For one day – she would need their help.

BBRBW

**February**

His daughter was reaching the ripe old age of one month and Cygnus was coming to an understanding. It had taken a great deal of wine and patience for him to understand the ways of Muggles, but in the end, he grudgingly realized that they were not that different from wizards in the way their society functioned – with one exception – one’s birth meant far less than in the Wizarding world.

It also made him wonder. In the Wizarding world the name _'Black'_ meant a great deal, however in the Muggle world it was as good as any other which unsettled Cygnus. His daughter was precious and important - everyone in the Wizarding world had been made aware of just how invaluable young Lady Black was. Cygnus wanted the same treatment from the Muggles.

From what he had learned, the way of achieving it wasn't overly difficult. In Wizarding world status was determined by the family one was born in, the importance of said family in the Ministry which was directly related to the length of the Family Tree Tapestry, the size of the family’s Gringott’s account (preferably - _accounts_ ) as well as the abilities of the individual itself. In Muggle world it was much simpler - money meant power. Cygnus had a lot of money and he was willing to use it.

BBRBW

**March**

Cygnus had never been a patient man, but today, fortunately, his patience wasn't put to test. Adrian Burke arrived precisely on time. It hadn't been easy for Cygnus to find Mr. Burke. Whenever a squib had the ill luck of being born into an old Wizarding family they tended to disappear as soon as they could, leaving as little trace behind them as possible.

After Cygnus had made the decision to make his daughter as much of a princess in Muggle world as she was in the Wizarding one, he only had to figure out _how_. He didn't intend only to spend and receive nothing in return - any fool could spend money. He wanted to make money. Cygnus had decided that he was going to build an empire for his baby girl.

And to start - he needed someone that could guide him along the way explaining the terms in a way he understood best which meant that the only option was a squib.

"I'm glad that you decided to come, Mr. Burke," he spoke and indicated with his hand towards the seat opposite to him.

"Your summons raised my curiosity, Lord Black," Adrian replied sitting down. "I wonder what a Wizarding Lord would require of me."

Cygnus raised his eyebrows as if he were offended by the tone. "Nothing but the services you offer," Cygnus said after a moment of silence.

"I am an economist. My specialty is finances," confusion was evident in Adrian's tone. "But I'm also a squib and I would not be allowed to handle Wizarding accounts under the 27th point of the sixth verse – _Squib Rights_ of the _Limitations of the non-Wizarding creatures_ Law from the Legislation of the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain. You _know_ this."

"That doesn't matter," Cygnus said. His lips twisted into a smile, "because I do not want for you to manage my Wizarding finances."

"Then I do not understand why you called for me," there was a hint of annoyance in his tone of voice, even though he was sure that he was about to hear something that would make it worth having had to set foot on a Wizard’s property.

Cygnus leaned forward in his chair and rested his hands on the mahogany desk that was between him and Adrian Burke. A predatory smile spread across his face. "I want for you to manage my Muggle finances."

Adrian reared back as if struck. Although he spent little to no time in the Wizarding world nowadays (and whenever he did the visit was brief _-ish_ ) it couldn't have changed much in the last ten years since he had officially left it. The request Lord Black posed was unthinkable - why in Merlin's name would a Lord of a powerful Wizarding family and with a title of his own want anything to do with the Muggle world?

"We'll start out small. Buy one little business, another - destroy or evolve them - whichever suits our needs better," Cygnus continued. "I want to build an empire."

Adrian frowned. "Why me?" life had long ago taught him to think before leaping.

"Because you have no attachment – material or emotional - to anyone yet. Because you know their world _and_ mine. Because I know you will be discreet and throughout," Cygnus replied relaxing into his chair.

"How do you know you can trust me?" Adrian asked. "After all, this could be quite a juicy bit for Daily Prophet _or_ your sister."

"You swore an oath of secrecy only to come here and hear what I had to say," Cygnus pointed out. "That says quite a lot about you," he omitted the fact that he had done a background check on the man and they both let the fact that an oath meant a great deal less to a squib than to a wizard (because there was no magic to bind a squib to his word) pass in silence. "Besides I can obliviate you anytime at my convenience,” he said frankly, “or just kill you as soon as this meeting is over,” he added as an afterthought.

Adrian smiled and nodded accepting the point made – he had come here at his own risk. A Squib’s life on a Wizarding property is worthless. “If you know about me as much as I suspect you do, you should know that the fact that I’m still alive means I’m very resourceful.”

“I don’t doubt your capabilities,” Cygnus answered. “You shouldn’t doubt mine.”

Adrian nodded once again; he had expected no less. "Very well," he said voicing his agreement and, then with threats established and situation clear to both parties, they smoothly proceeded to discuss payments, budget, and plans of action, and no-disclosure agreements along with the most significant differences between wine brewing methods of Muggles and Wizards which of course was the most important part of the discussion.

BBRBW

**7 years later**

Little Bellatrix Black was full seven years old and would object strenuously to being called _little._ She was a _young lady,_ thank you very much. And as such she was trying her best to behave while her father and godfather were in a meeting.

This was not the first time. Her father took her to Muggle London regularly enough. She did not like it much. Her mother always looked worried when they went, and Andromeda never came with them. And that was Bella’s biggest peeve regarding these trips – she missed her sister, she missed being able to do magic and she _hated_ having to watch her every word, because of the Statue of Secrecy.

Adrian’s secretary did her best to entertain her charge, but Bellatrix simply was not impressed with folded paper shapes that crudely resembled regular things. This was also not the first time she was left with Amy while her father and godfather were in a meeting with other Muggles, so Bella was rather accustomed to feeling of boredom.

"Now, look," Amy said folding another piece of paper. "We put this here and this like, _ahhh_ , like this and now," she said holding up a folded paper that resembled a boat, "tell me, what do you think it is?"

Bella frowned in thought, sitting primly on the chair before Amy’ s desk. To tell the truth at first it seemed like a ruined sheet of paper to her. When her mother made something, she used either and or a brush, or a pencil and the outcome always was rather obvious even if it was just a paper with lots of pretty colours.

She pursed her lips in thought, her little arms crossed across her chest. The top thing in her mind was the prize that was promised to her if she behaved today. The gifts from these trips to Muggle world were the one bright thing in the entire affair. And Bellatrix had spied a beautiful pearl necklace in a jeweller’s shop down the street of the building they were in. The necklace was as beautiful as her mother’s jewels and, truth be told, she was a little magpie attracted to shiny, expensive things.

"It looks like…," she tried. "It looks like mothers candy dish," she finally said. It was partly true - if Bella scrunched her eyes and looked very hard, she could imagine the outline of the exquisite crystal bowl. "How did you know how it looks? Mother always puts it on the highest shelves," she added quickly making sure to sound adequately astounded and impressed.

Amy laughed. "You really think so?" she asked. She never minded looking after boss's little goddaughter during board meetings. The girl had such strange outlook on ordinary things that Amy rarely needed anything more than what could be found on her work desk to keep the little one entertained. "Then here you go," she said handing over the paper boat. "Your own candy dish."

Bella took the folded paper and thanked appropriately. She held the paper figure with the tips of her fingers, unsure of how solid the thing was. This new toy had to be the least worth thing of all she possessed however it also fascinated her in a way. "What do _you_ think it is?" she asked looking at Amy.

Amy opened her mouth to answer when a phone rang. She held up a finger to motion for Bella to be silent and answered. The conversation went on for a couple of minutes and when Amy put the phone back down, she was positively glowing.

"Who was that?" Bella asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Oh, nothing. Just, you know, my fiancée," Amy said taking a quick, excited breath after every other word.

"What's a _fiancée?_ " Bella asked tasting the word in her mouth. Her mother had told her time and time again that when encountering something new in whatever shape or form - she should explore it and only then judge. An awful serious lesson for one so young and Bellatrix didn't comprehend it fully - she just took it as a permission to nag people for answers when she couldn’t make sense of things by herself which was often enough considering that she was only seven and the world still seemed a big place.

"My prince on a white horse, only he doesn't have a horse," Amy smiled and tried to explain, but couldn't stop blabbing. "The man I'm going to marry," she finally sighed dreamily.

Bella frowned. Amy was making very little sense. "How come he's on a horse if he doesn't _have_ a horse? And _why_ should he need a horse?" logical fallacies made her head hurt. She tried to be as clear as possible when speaking to Muggles since they wouldn’t understand any magical reference, unfortunately Muggle adults didn’t give her the same consideration.

Amy looked oddly at the girl. "Like a prince from a fairy-tale," she said. "Surely you too must dream to be like Cinderella or Snow White and have a prince come on a white horse to take you away from the witch and carry you to his castle to live happily ever after. Every girl dreams about it."

“No! No, I don’t!” Bella suddenly got more agitated with every word. What Amy said was incomprehensible – why would someone want to be stolen from their mother? Was Amy stolen? Was that something Muggles did? Steal little girls from their mothers… This sounded like a spooky story or cautionary tale, or, “I don’t dream of being taken away! I want to stay with my mother! I want to stay in my own castle! I…” _I want to stay in my own home, I want to be with my mother, I don’t want any princes,_ the more she thought of it the more the strange Muggle idea’s of fairy-tales terrified the little witch.

Out of nowhere wind picked up in the well-conditioned office of 11th floor and one of the large windows groaned with a terrible moaning sound and the double-pane glass that could weather high wind, hale and all manner of other natural occurrences – cracked. And if one were to check, they would see that the crack extended from this window, encircling the entire floor, two floors above and one below.

Unknowingly Bellatrix had just cast a spell that would shape and change the rest of her life. A spell that would let her stay comfortably at home, never leaving, yet stumble on the path of her destiny that most certainly didn’t involve a prince just a little boy who had a lot of growing up to do, just like her. Mynatt’s _not-prophecy_ took a giant leap forward.

Amy ran around her table to shield the child when as suddenly as it had begun the phenomenon stopped. The doors to the meeting hall burst open and Mister Black - the owner of the company- along with Mister Burke - the CEO and her boss - ran out. For a moment she sat still unsure of what to do or say then she stood up. Black hurried over to his daughter and picked the child up.

Bella snuggled to her father but was otherwise calm now. Burke went over to examine the glass.

"What happened?" Black asked his tone sharp and cold his attention focused on Amy.

"I…," what could Amy say? "We were talking about fairy-tale when a wind suddenly picked up and…," she shrugged. "The window banged close. I hadn’t even noticed it was open. .. Or that it could be opened..." she hadn't done anything wrong, but she couldn't help, but feel trepidation and coldness seep into her bones under Black’s gaze, that completely belied how softly he was cradling the child in his arms.

Cygnus frowned. "Bella?" he asked in a hushed and tender tone turning his gaze upon his precious offspring.

"I'm alright," Bellatrix said knowing that her father will ask her later what had triggered her latest bout of accidental magic. She looked around the hall - well, at least this time she didn't completely trash the room so the deal about the pearls might still be valid. She hooked her arms around her father's neck, content to be carried.

"It seems like it was a case of heavy draft," Burke said stepping away from the windowed wall. "This high up the winds can be tricky," he said winking at Bella.

"I think it's enough of a meeting for this time," Black said turning to the board members.

Some of them nodded, some murmured in agreement and people began to file out.

BBRBW

**The very same night**

Bella wasn't afraid of the dark. She had never been. She calmly and with mild curiosity looked over her surroundings. She was standing on a cold rock and it was dark, she heard flapping sounds somewhere above her. Absent-mindedly she wondered whether this was a dream and that she could really use a pair of shoes.

At first, she felt the whirl of magic around her and only then the softness of her boots. She cocked her head to a side and tried again. This time she thought about having a more appropriate clothing than her pyjamas. A moment later she was dressed in pants and a sweater. _Neat._

She took a couple of steps forward. Never had she had such a conscious dream. She was aware of every breath she took. It felt like an adventure from the stories her mother told her before bedtime. Feeling all giddy and excited she rushed forward.

The way was hard. She slipped and tripped but continued with the determination and fearlessness one only possesses as a child. A few bouts of accidental magic helped her not to fall, though she did not notice them. She saw light somewhere ahead and went in its direction.

After she crawled through an opening that reminded her a bit of the drawings of Cerberus’ jaws in her story book; she found that she was not as alone as she had thought she was.

"What are you doing here?" she asked her voice full of suspicion. This was her dream and her dream adventure - she felt rather protective of it. Dreams were important to Wizard-kind.

Bruce watched in wonder at the strange girl who had crawled out of the same place the bats had come. He couldn't get his mouth to move to form an answer, so he just stared at her half-heartedly wondering if she'd turn out to be a bat too.

Bella took a cautious step forward. She watched the boy on the ground for a moment more before putting her hands against her hips and frowning. "Are you mute?" she had inherited her father's impatience.

Bruce started to think that he was hallucinating. He glanced upwards and hoped that his father or Alfred would come soon. He wanted to get out of this strange place as soon as possible. He saw nothing, but the clear, blue sky in the frame of the well.

Bella followed his gaze and looked up as well. "You fell?" she asked, her tone softer. The fall looked like quite a big one, she didn't envy the boy - on the other hand it was probably his own fault. How hard is it to notice a well? And doesn't _not_ going close to big holes in the ground make sense?

He looked back at the girl. He couldn't make out whether she was a hallucination or a dream, because she couldn't be real. Nobody could live down here. Finally, he decided that it didn't look like she was going to harm him as mysterious as she was. He hesitantly nodded. He still didn't feel like talking. He was half-expecting the bats to attack him again, in a way he was glad that she would be first in their path. She didn’t seem to be afraid of anything.

"Bruce."

He looked up when he heard his father's voice. He reached for his father's arm. When he was safely in the grasp of his father he looked back down, but saw no trace of the strange, nameless girl.

BBRBW

It was not long until he saw her again, though. It happened the very next day. He was in his room, in his bed and unwilling to get up. He supposed that his dad or Alfred would soon come to wake him if he did not get up on his own, but he wanted to drag this out if possible. He did not notice from where and when she came. For all he knew she could have been there for a very long time before stepping into his line of vision.

Bella stood in front of the boy who was obviously not asleep, but apparently too lazy to get up. She glanced around the room and noted that it was not bad, a little bit too classical for her tastes with all the dark wood panelling and 17th century walnut furniture, but altogether rather fine looking.

Bruce watched the strange girl with interest. He wondered what she was going to do. At the moment she stood by his bed and stared him down – her stare didn’t affect him much as he already was on his stomach in front of her and only the floor was lower. He tried to figure out if he was imagining her, or if she was some sort of a ghost that was now haunting him.

Finally, a couple of minutes later Bella lost her interest in the mute boy. She resisted from huffing but indulged in rolling her eyes before going over to a window. The grounds were beautiful. There wasn’t anything but a low, green hilltop, a plain and woods in distance. It was pleasant to see so far. Hills at her home were higher and blocked the view – sometimes they made her whole world seem way too small. She took a deep breath as if she could breathe in the vastness, the freedom.

“Who are you?” Bruce asked when finally, he tired of the silence. If his privacy was to be invaded by this ghost, he felt he had the right to ask.

Bella turned around. There were traces of surprise on her face although she masked it rather quickly. “So, you can talk,” it wasn’t a question. She walked over to the bed and plopped down not waiting for an invitation. “This is my dream,” she stated. “Who are _you_?”

Bruce frowned and sat up. “This is _my_ house,” he stated back at her.

Bella huffed. “I know I am asleep. This is my dream,” she said. “My dream hence my house, my everything and I am not going to share,” her tone was rather hostile. Her mother had never said anything about having to be excessively polite or considerate when dreaming.

Bruce shook his head. “I know I am _awake_ ,” he said his expression thoughtful. “That means you must be a ghost!” he exclaimed.

Bella felt insulted. “I would never make a cowards’ choice!”

“What do you mean?”

Bella regarded the boy silently for a while. She wasn’t fond of explaining things to people – which were why her relationship with her sister Cissy was rather strained. Cissy just kept asking a question after question about simple things and that infuriated Bella who preferred Andy with whom she had barely a year difference in age. However, her mother had told her time and time again to be more patient with people so Bella supposed she would humour her absent mother this time. “When you die you have a choice – either to cross over or to stay on earth and become a ghost,” Bella explained. “Staying is considered cowardice.”

“Really?”

Bella gave him an annoyed glare and chose to ignore the question. She frowned in thought – if this really was his house and he was awake, and she knew she had gone to sleep – what was happening?

“What are you thinking about?” Bruce asked. It was evident by the frustrated expression on her face that she was trying to work something out and failing.

“That you’re a very annoying dream-boy,” she snapped.

“I said, I’m awake and I know _I’m_ real,” he replied, not offended by her tone.

She opened her mouth to say something scathing and harsh, and unladylike when the door to the room opened and a man already in the latter part of being middle-aged stepped in. “Ah, good morning, Master Bruce,” he said. “Already awake as I see, well, get dressed then,” he urged.

“Good morning, Alfred,” Bruce said casting a quick look at Bella who was still sitting at the foot of his bed.

“Miss Rachel has been up for quite a time and told me to pass a message that she’s _‘bored stiff’_ and you should get ready quickly, if you please,” the butler said with a warm smile on his face before turning around and leaving the room.

“He didn’t see you,” Bruce started.

“I noticed,” Bella snapped, unsure of what to make of the turn of events.

“Maybe you’re my imaginary friend,” Bruce said in an absent-minded manner.

Bella rolled her eyes. “Or maybe I have the power to be invisible!”

BBRBW

**Another day later**  
  
Bruce got up earlier than usually. He didn't know for certain if the girl would appear again, but if she did - he wanted to know her secret. He wanted to know where she came from, especially, if she had such an easy access to his room. He sat at the foot of his bed and watched around intently. About half-hour later she simply stepped out from the shadows at the back of the room.  
  
Bella took a couple of steps forward and frowned. This hadn't been very funny previously and certainly wasn't getting more amusing as the time passed. "You," she ground out. "Again!" she stumped her foot against the floor. She felt cheated at her dream-adventure.  
  
He watched her with mild interest before deciding to speak his mind, "It makes sense, you know." He tilted his head and took a pause before continuing, "You're my imaginary friend, so you have little choice, but to come here."  
  
"I am not your imaginary friend!" Bella snapped. She was irritated at the gall of this boy - she was way beyond anything he could ever imagine. "If anything - you're something of my imagination because this is _my dream_!" she said, her voice slowly rising. "And you're ruining it!"  
  
He smirked. "I'm not the one who's invisible," he said.  
  
Bella was young and short, her temper was even shorter. She made a move to grab a toy soldier from a nearby shelf to toss it at Bruce and hopefully bash his head in when she realized she couldn't. Her hand just went through the figure. "Oh, no," she murmured and tried again only to see that her hand had less effect on the toy than a gentle breeze coming from the open window. She gritted her teeth, of course, only she could have a dream where she was something akin to a ghost.  
  
"See! You're a ghost!"  
  
"I'm not a ghost! And I'm not your imaginary friend!" she hissed. "I just… I am ME," she ended putting as much conviction into her words as she could muster.  
  
Bruce shrugged and got off the bed. "If you say so," he said.  
  
"I didn't say anything."  
  
Both Bruce and Bella turned to face the owner of the voice. It was a rather tall girl of their age with what Bella thought was ridiculous hairstyle. Bella sniffed in disdain, everything about the girl screamed plebeian. "I don't suppose you see …,"  
  
"Rachel!" Bruce called out interrupting Bella and earning a glare from her which he didn't notice.  
  
"Who were you talking to, Bruce?" Rachel asked seemingly confused.  
  
Bruce cast a quick glance at Bella before replying, "Nobody. Just thinking aloud."  
  
Bella snorted. "Thinking aloud like this will get you in St. Mango quickly enough," she said before getting comfortable in one of the two armchairs in the room. Come to think about it, maybe that was it - her dream quest/task was to get this boy into a hospital to help him. Bellatrix grinned. That wasn't a bad idea.  
  
"Oh, well," Rachel paused trying to remember what she had come to tell. "I just thought we could use the new garden chairs to…," she stammered suddenly feeling cold. "To try and finally get that condensed milk from the top shelf, you know?" she shifted from one foot to another unable to shake off the feeling that somebody was dancing on her grave.  
  
"It's a great idea," he said enthusiastically. "Why don't you go, and I'll follow in a moment?"  
  
"Okay," she said smiling widely at him. She quickly backed out of the room and run down the hall. She had never in her life felt so out of place – unwanted and uncomfortable. When she reached the top of the stairs she shrugged and decided that she had probably mostly imagined it.  
  
"What did you do?" Bruce asked turning to face Bella.  
  
Bella blinked. "What do you mean?" she asked with no real curiosity behind it.  
  
"You had to have done something!" his tone was accusing. "Rachel never stammers! You must have scared her or something!"  
  
Bella quickly changed her satisfied smile to a more innocent one. "She couldn't even _see_ me," she stated.  
  
Bruce thought for a moment before nodding, "Fair enough." He moved towards the door but noticing that Bella had made no move to follow him, he stopped. "Are you going to just sit there?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Why? That's boring. Come with us!" he invited.  
  
She shook her head. "No way," she said. "I'm not about to go and _'steal'_ sweets from the kitchen."  
  
"But that's my kitchen - it's not really stealing," he explained hastily.

"It's stupid," she protested. "I'm not going and that's final."  
  
He sighed. He didn't know what to say to get her to come and he didn't want to leave her by herself to the mercy of boredom or the room at her mercy. He frowned in thought for a moment. "Come," he tried again. "You'll be able to stand guard for me and Rachel and… And make fun of people because they can't see you!" he coaxed.  
  
Bella shifted in her seat. That did sound rather tempting. She thought it over for a minute before nodding in agreement and walking over to Bruce.  
  
"Great," he said. "Just… Just no hurting anyone okay?" he asked hesitantly before opening the door. As far as he knew ghosts were practically required to play nasty, practical jokes on people and he wasn’t convinced that she wasn’t a ghost.  
  
"They can't _see_ me," Bella echoed her earlier statement. "And I _can't_ touch things," she hissed as she walked out of the door. She really hated repeating things. “It’s not like I can _do_ anything.”  
  
They walked a couple of steps before Bruce asked, "How come you don’t fall through my chair then?"

BBRBW

  
During the month Bruce and Bella discovered that nobody in the Wayne household could see or hear her. Neither could she touch things directly however she could walk, sit, stand and jump on the furniture without hesitation. It took one run in with a door to realize that she couldn't go through walls or doors. They also came to an agreement that she wasn't a ghost or an imaginary friend nor that Bruce was an unfortunate by-product of a dream adventure even if he _was_ a Muggle.

It also became clear that she didn't appear just in mornings, one day she had walked in the dining room in the middle of dinner and surprised Bruce so that he had almost spat his mouthful of soup all over the table.  
  
Bella also discovered that her magic was unaffected by whatever this was and worked just fine when she got herself in a tizzy. It was possible that nobody was ever going to find out why all the glass in the veranda suddenly cracked one fine afternoon.

  
BBRBW

**Sometime in late October…**

  
Opera. Bella liked opera. After more than a month of appearing in random shadowed places, most usually in Wayne manor, this was a nice change. She walked down the aisle to be closer to the stage and sat down on the steps to enjoy the performance. Her joy didn’t last long. There was a commotion in the row below her. Some people were trying to get out. It didn’t take long to recognize the Waynes.

Bella sighed. “What’s the matter?” she asked getting up and falling in step beside Bruce.

Bruce wasn’t surprised to see her. After a month he was more or less used to her habit of appearing anywhere at any time. “Bats,” he whispered.

Bella abruptly stopped to take a look back at the stage. Martha didn’t see her and passed her through – both shivered after the experience. “Drafty,” Martha mouthed to her husband. Bella resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the comment however she made sure to go _around_ Martha to catch up with Bruce.

Martha opened the doors and Bella slipped outside before Bruce who seemingly hesitated to let her pass. She frowned at the dingy alleyway. The opera had seemed decent enough - nothing much compared to the Wizarding opera house her family co-owned, but decent enough -, however the alley was simply disgusting.

Bella closed her eyes for a moment and imagined boots instead of slippers that she was wearing at the moment. Now she was more grateful than ever for the possibility to change her clothing at will in her _‘dream’_ , she shivered at the thought of having to wade through this sludge with slippers even though she generally passed through things.

When she opened her eyes, the Wayne’s were already going away. She grimaced. Bella was used to people waiting for and on her – having to quicken her pace to catch up _again_ wasn’t something she was very familiar with. She was beside Thomas when a man walked up to them and pointed a gun at the eldest Wayne.

Bella watched with eyes wide open at the events unfolding in front of her. Everything happened so fast that she didn’t even have the time to feel threatened. In the wake of two gunshots the wind picked up and the buildings seemed to groan under some unseen pressure, but mentally Bella seemed to catch up with what was happening only when the elder Waynes were lying on the ground and Bruce was visibly fighting to contain his tears. As suddenly as the wind had picked up everything was still and silent once again.

Bellatrix slowly trod by Bruce’s side silently taking in the tragic scene. She didn’t have anything to say nor did it seem appropriate to speak. She didn’t know how to offer comfort and her hand would pass him through were she to squeeze his shoulder, so the little witch just stood close by his side just being there until the police arrived.

She stood by his side at the police station too. It didn’t matter that nobody but him could see or hear her – she wasn’t here for them, although she supposed it wouldn’t have hurt if she could snap at them and that they would actually hear. Now the only one who could hear her remarks was Bruce and he didn’t need them right now so Bella wisely held her silence.

The people who infuriated her the most were the ones who said that _‘It’s okay’_. Because it wasn’t okay – not by a long shot. Bruce’s parents were dead and that most definitely wasn’t okay. Bella distantly wished that she was older and could punch some of those people – or at least visible so that she could kick them were Adrian had taught her to kick people who said or did mean things. She filed the idea for a later time though.

Now she just stood there by his right shoulder behind him and offered what comfort her presence could give. She wished she could strike out to calm the raging anger she felt about the unfairness of what had happened, because _it was_ anger that she felt. She wished there was something she could do, but for the first time in her life she was helpless. She already knew she hated the feeling. There was nothing she could do, but talk (and only to one person too) and she didn’t know what to say to Bruce who was so quiet and still that she kept tripping back down the memory lane to the first time she had met him. This time his father wouldn't be able to come rescue him.

Bella stood by his side until Alfred arrived.

BBRBW

The next day she found herself walking out of the familiar shadows of Bruce’s bedroom. It was late morning, but he still was in his bed. Bella walked to the window making sure that she was in his line of vision, but she still said nothing.

At first Bruce had been an irritating annoyance she was forced to deal with and gradually he had become a simple annoyance that she didn’t mind dealing with. Bella was hesitant to call him a friend. She didn’t have friends. She had Family and the rest of the world. She had been taught to try to be courteous and considerate of others while maintaining a strong sense of self-worth, but to tell the truth, while she had picked up the occasional courtesy - it simply wasn’t in her nature to be considerate of others. As a child she did try – seldom, though. The point is she didn’t know how to offer any comfort beyond her own presence through lack of experience in both comforting and empathizing.

She stared at the grounds that had fascinated her the first time she had seen them. She still loved the sight. There was nothing special, no delicate gardening or glamorous tea-houses just a flat hill and green field that stretched as far as she could see before ending in a dark green blur by the horizon that could be a forest. The simplicity appealed to her. The space made her feel free, freer than she had felt anywhere else in the world – she liked that.

Bruce watched her for a moment before turning on his other side to face the distant wall. She wasn’t unwelcome although he was grateful for her silence. He didn’t want to hear any more _‘Its okay’s’_ or _‘I’m sorry’s’_. He was thankful for not being alone, but more for being left to his own thoughts.

The silence was interrupted when the door opened, and Rachel peeked in. Seeing that Bruce was awake she walked in completely and closed the door behind herself.

“Alfred sent me up to ask if you want some breakfast,” she said.

Bruce sat up in his bed. “No,” he said, his tone quiet and timid.

Rachel seemed saddened by his answer. “You didn’t eat anything yesterday evening and mom said…,” she stopped involuntary. She felt it again – the thing she had experienced rather often in the last month – the _fight or flight_ instinct at the back of her head or rather superiority _around_ her, crushing her, making her feel as low as grass for no reason. It was as if someone hated her very much, but there was no one there.

Bruce laid back and snuggled into his blankets turning on his side so that he could still see her. He didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said sadly a minute later before turning and leaving the room quickly.

Bella kept herself occupied by watching the window, trying to touch things, and thinking to herself. Bruce neither resented nor acknowledged her presence. The morning hours passed quickly, and lunchtime came around. This time it was Alfred who came up – he was refused just the same as Rachel. It was close to dinner time when Bruce sat up in his bed and finally fully acknowledged Bella’s presence.

She felt the stare although she waited for a moment before turning to face him, “What?” her tone was flat with a hint of annoyance.

“Do you think I should go to the dinner?”

Bella blinked. “I’m not a Healer,” she said, “so I’m not the one you should be asking that.” Seeing his taken-aback expression she huffed before continuing, “Although common sense says that you should go.”

“I don’t want to face them,” he whispered.

She didn’t have much to say to that. “You have to,” she said logically. “Maybe not now per se but you _will_ have to. Locking yourself in this room wouldn’t be very smart. I hear that death by starvation is not pretty.”

“Will you be at the funeral?” he asked not trying to pretend that it wasn’t important.

Bella frowned for a moment – both serious and considerate for once. “I’ll try,” she finally said after a while of silence. She felt a tug on her awareness. She slowly had learned to recognize a pull in her mind that called her to wakefulness, back to where she had come from.

Soon Bruce was alone in his room. When an hour later Alfred came and asked Bruce about dinner, he was surprised to find the boy already dressed and ready to go.

BBRBW

**Three hundred and sixty four days later (not a leap year)…**

Bella opened her eyes and found herself in a cemetery. Immediately she looked around for Bruce – she noted the Wayne manor on the top of the hill in the distance, but landmarks weren’t what she was interested in. It wasn’t landmarks that she was drawn to.

She had long since abandoned the idea that this was a purely imaginary, adventure dream sort of, well, an adventure, and that as bizarre as this was - it was real. She had no idea _how_ yet, but she was a clever little witch and she was a Black. She was sure that eventually she’ll know all she wants to, but for now - she looked for the one thing that always called to her whenever she closed her eyes for the night – Bruce.

And there he was. A bit scrawny boy with dark hair and looking so infinitely sad and lonely standing before the huge tombstone with his parents’ faces engraved in it – it hurt her teeth to look at him and see him so miserable. She bounced forward and bumped her shoulder against his.

“Hi,” she greeted quietly.

He nodded but didn’t say anything.

Not one to force a conversation, Bella did what she perceived she did best in these kinds of situations – she just stood there quietly, by his side and tried to offer support and being yet too young failed to feel as surprised as she will be later in life at actually feeling the emotion – _sympathy_.

She didn’t know how long they stood there, nor did she care. The passage of time was meaningless to her. Suddenly Bruce grabbed her hand – the one closest to him – and squeezed hard. She winced.

“Bella. Tell me – where do you go when you’re not here with me?” his eyes seemed large in his face and he sounded afraid of the answer, but his tone was determined. He had to know.

Bellatrix frowned, but didn’t think for a second before answering honestly, “Home, of course.” Then she wrenched her arm from his grasp.

Ever since she had become more solid – at least for him - Bruce terribly abused the privilege by pulling her along when she hesitated, patting her back and on one not-very-memorable occasion he had even hugged her. She wasn’t sure what to think of it, especially, when he had the gall to push her aside if she irritated him, because no one ever had dared to treat her as an absolute equal – to shove back when she shoved first or shove _first_ if necessary. She was either a child or Lady Black, never a … friend, not to anybody, but Bruce who was a Muggle of all things. Even her favourite sister treated her with more reserve and respect.

“What’s home?” Bruce asked. He had so many ideas about who Bellatrix could be, but the one he feared most was that despite all she had told him about ghosts and how much she despised them, that she _was_ one and he couldn’t bear to think that when she wasn’t here – she wasn’t at all. Surely, in his mind, if anyone deserved to be in heaven then Bella must be there right alongside his parents.

“Well, the Manor of course, unless it’s summer, because then we sometimes go to our summer home on the coast and then there’s Mama’s châteaux in Corsica. But mostly I’m at the Manor unless we go out or travel, or Father takes me with him to work and then we sometimes visit my Aunt in London or at the Black Castle. Also, of course, there’s grand-mère and …”

“So it’s not like you fall asleep and there’s nothing there?” he interrupted finally asking what had been bothering him the most. “It’s not just darkness and emptiness?”

“No, silly!” Bellatrix laughed. “When I’m not here, my eyes are wide open and it’s a whole other world! The Wizarding world,” she exclaimed. “And when I go to sleep, I come here. There’s always _something_.” Come to think of it – she rarely if ever simply slept.

“Good,” he said, calmed by her responses.

“What exactly brought this on?” she asked frowning.

“It’s been a year since… Since… “

“Since that brute killed your parents, I know, Bruce,” she said softly. “But still. Standing alone in a cemetery?” she wasn’t sure what she thought of it, but aside from the fact that being just quiet, somewhere with Bruce suited her just fine, it did seem somewhat… Weird.

“You’re here,” he remarked.

“Of course. If you’re silly enough to be standing here, I suppose somebody has to be with you,” she replied smartly.

“I didn’t ask you to come, you know,” his tone turned defensive and angry.

“Not this time, no, but I did promise to try to be with you on today and this is me trying,” she replied with equal force in her voice and though she hadn’t intended it at all – she replied like she cared, and what’s important – she really did care.

His anger dissipated. “Only have to ask you once, huh?” he questioned softly. Sometimes he thought he had to ask for thousands of times before anyone listened and nobody ever really heard. And why should anyone? He was a child who was nobody to anybody. His only family was right beneath him in their graves.

“Only the important things,” she grinned.

BBRBW

**A year and two months later…**

Bella frowned. She tried to resist the instinct to lean closer to the table. Her hands were in her lap and she was trying to appear as calm as possible while trying to think up a strategy that would finally end the game. She liked scheming, but three hours of chess was close to crossing the line.

“Which ones do you like better – dogs or cats?” Bruce suddenly asked.

“What?” irritated at having her thought process interrupted, she glared at him.

“See, if you’re going to keep this up I think I should write a will and I think I will donate to an animal shelter in your name,” he explained. “So which ones do you like better – dogs or cats?”

She blinked. “I’m not fond of animals, you know that,” she said turning her attention back to the board.

“Still – dogs or cats? It’s a simple question.”

She sat silent for a moment before making a move with the knight. “I suppose dogs, they’re at least loyal,” she said. “Big dogs,” she added looking up at him. “Intimidating ones.”

Bruce stared at her, or more precisely at her hand. In a little over two years in which he had known her she had never been able to directly touch or punch a solid object (except him, but he really didn’t think of himself as an object). And now she had just moved a knight on the board like it was normal for her.

“What?” she asked impatiently when he suddenly fell silent. His chattering irritated her, but his silence worried her – she preferred to suffer the irritation.

“You moved the knight,” he whispered.

“Of course, I moved…,” she stopped in mid-speech. “Oh,” she breathed. “Well – _finally_ ,” she said a moment later, a light smile on her face.

“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning.

“Well, things are supposed to change as time goes by, it’s natural,” she said smartly. “Your move.”

Bruce shrugged, unsure of what to say or think so he did what was now coming naturally to him where she was concerned – he accepted it and moved on. “At least it makes playing chess easier,” he said tentatively before making a move with his Queen.

“You think so?” Bella smiled and made a move with her Bishop. “Check!”

BBRBW

**A month later…**

“I saw this in a shop, and I knew you would love it,” he said while tossing around various toys and books, obviously looking for something in the shelves.

Bella wasn’t so sure but managed to keep an expression of vague interest on her face. The last time Bruce had said that he’d thought she’d like something - he’d offered to induct her as the Ghost of the Wayne manor. He had figured that as she could move things sometimes, they now could prove that she was there. Luckily for him her hands had passed through the vase she had wanted to throw at him.

“What is it?” she asked. While creating mayhem was fun – watching someone make a mess of a perfectly fine room was not.

“It’s a game,” he said, still digging through his stuff. “It’s called Monopoly and there are businesses which you can buy and then build hotels and…,” he launched into an explanation and Bella let the words wash over her.

She carefully looked around the room. It took a couple of minutes, but she finally saw the box he was speaking about. It was on the top shelf. She dragged the chair till the shelves and stepped on the seat before climbing on the backrest. “I found it,” she said reaching for the box.

So far Bella hadn’t found out what exactly triggered moments when she could touch things and when she passed through them as usually. Maybe she became incorporeal when she concentrated too much or too less or maybe it was triggered by her emotions like most accidental magic, although at home she was already receiving magical schooling. Anyway, suddenly she fell through the chair on floor.

Ironically, the thump was rather audible. Bruce rushed by her side and dragged the armchair to a side – it was rather weird to see her head sticking out of the seat. “You okay?” he asked kneeling by her on the floor.

“I’ll live,” she grunted massaging her ankle and sending mean glares at the unfortunate armchair.

Bruce grimaced. “Ok, come here,” he said standing up and extending an arm to help her up.

Bella looked at his arm for a moment before accepting offered help and wobbly getting on her feet. Bruce helped her to hobble to the bed. After listening for several minutes to her various scenarios of ‘kicking the bloody chair into next Sunday’ he got the game and they actually played it. As Bruce had thought – she loved it, although she didn’t say it. She didn’t have to.

BBRBW

**A bit more than two years later – early June…**

He heard soft steps and looked up from his book at the intruder. A smile graced his face, “I didn’t expect you today.”

As they grew older their ‘meetings’ became more apart. For first two and a half years Bella visited every day – sometimes for all day, sometimes for barely an hour, but then she took to showing up only every other day and by now she was popping in only two times a week – rarely three.

She smiled a small smile and plopped down at the foot of his bed. “I don’t want to go to Hogwarts come September,” she said petulantly.

Bruce closed the book and put it aside. Bella had told him years ago that she was a witch and that made sense to him, besides that definitely beat the idea of her being a ghost. She had told him bits and pieces of her world, which only served to enforce his belief that she wasn’t completely _real_ either and he knew of her ambitions regarding the schools.

Secretly he was glad that she had been forbidden Durmstrang – it seemed a bit too dangerous. “Look at it from the bright side,” he suggested cautiously.

“You mean through the hole in the roof?”

He chuckled. “It can’t be that bad.”

“It is not,” she said. “It’s worse,” she sniffed in apparent and dramatic disdain.

Bruce recognized the expression on her face and wisely chose not to pursue that line of discussion – it was obvious that her mind couldn’t be swayed at the moment. “Still, you’re at least _finally_ going to a school,” there was a smirk on his face.

If she hadn’t known that he was baiting her, he would have been cursed or at least kicked to kingdom come for the implication. “I’ve had education,” she said stiffly. “Besides – you’re one to talk. You’re also being home-schooled.”

He laughed at her tone. “I’ve got a governess. It’s different, but not important,” he had learned to not let her occasional mannerisms offend him a long time ago. He stood up from the bed and grabbed her hand, “Come, I’ll show you the pictures Rachel gave me. You won’t believe the size of her new cat! She feeds him like seven times a day!”

“I don’t like cats,” she told him spitefully as she followed reluctantly.

“I know, I know… It’s dogs for you. Big ones,” he winked at her before dragging her behind him into his private study.

“Seven times a day, though?” Bellatrix asked a moment later. “Is she crazy?”

Bruce shook his head and shoved her lightly towards the desk. “It’s just hungry,” he explained shrugging.

Bella shook her head, “You clearly haven’t had any pets.”

Bruce bit his tongue so not to reply, _‘No, but I have you.’_

She glared at him as if she knew what had been on his mind.

BBRBW

**One year and six months and two weeks later…**

Bellatrix dragged her feet as Bruce dragged her for a roundabout around the garden. It was late January and there was no snow – in her opinion the weather was as dreary as it could be, but it wasn’t what vexed her at the moment.

“This year is a complete waste of my time. I hate it,” she proclaimed kicking a few loose pieces of gravel.

Bruce glanced at her and shrugged noncommittally. He had long since realized that if he let her stew for a while she would explain where the problem lay in her opinion. It was far more productive than trying to guess it himself.

“I mean the first year is the first. It’s all about getting to know the place, getting used to being in such a pitiful excuse for a boarding school. The third year is when I get to select electives and have some new and hopefully more useful subjects. Fourth year is when I can attend a school ball without having some older creep escorting me. Fifth year is the year of exams. On sixth year I’ll be of age and since it’s another of those useless years, but I’ll be of age – I’ll be able to do whatever I want! And seventh year is the last. Now the only completely bloody,” she felt better when she used the swear word, “useless year is this one. I’m twelve and bored to death!”

She knew she was dangerously close to whining, but something about Bruce destroyed most of her reservations making her able to just let go – be open in a way she couldn’t even with Andromeda. Not to mention that she was on the rocky edge that marked the beginning of puberty and was practically _required_ to whine.

“Be happy about it,” he replied. “You have a year more to figure things out – for me; this is the last year when everything is right.”

“Oh? How come?” she asked, not in the least embarrassed about not thinking of asking before. Bruce should know by know that if he wanted her attention and sympathy, he should bloody well clearly ask for it. It’s not like Bellatrix was a naturally giving and sharing and caring kind of person.

“Rachel’s mom is only qualified to teach the elementary school level of education which means that next year – none of us will be here. I’ll go to some boarding Junior High and I’ve no idea what will happen to Rachel. I suppose she’ll go where her mom goes. This is the last year we’re all together,” he didn’t say it out loud that it felt like his family was breaking apart for the second time. Everything he had known would be gone by the end of winter semester.

“Sounds like an interesting year,” she said and tactfully left out the part where she was excited about finally being rid of Rachel. Honestly, the more years went by the more homicidal the provincial girl made Bellatrix feel.

“That’s one way to put it,” he said dejectedly.

“Oh, Bruce,” Bella drawled. “Don’t be a sentimental idiot. Think about it! You’ll see new places, meet new people – you like that sort of thing! New friends! Maybe even some guy friends, because let’s be honest up until now you’ve spent most of your life hanging around girls.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” he looked at her quizzically and tried hard not to smirk.

“It’s a wonderful thing, but you’re the kind of person who needs more friends than just me,” Bella said earnestly.

“I’ve got Rachel too,” he reminded her.

Bella’s nose twitched. _Precisely my point._ “Fine. More friends than me and just Rachel,” she rephrased.

Bruce smiled lightly. “It’s just…,” but the sombre mood soon won him over again. “I may not see Rachel again for a long time and you…”

“Well, I’m always were you are, so I’ll be there,” she interrupted. “Wherever _there_ is.”

He didn’t say _‘I hope so’_ , but he certainly thought it. “It feels monumental, you know. Like the end of something.”

Bella hated playing the optimist. She was much better at being rational or a realistic pessimist, if the occasion called for it. “Every end is a new beginning,” she echoed dully.

“Yeah, you really sound like you believe that,” he didn’t hide the scepticism in his voice.

“Bruce, your life won’t end just because Rachel won’t be there anymore. Get a grip for Merlin’s sake!” and she would have stormed away if she didn’t feel that that would be far too dramatic even for a witch in her early teens.

“It’s not about Rachel!” he insisted.

She grimaced. “Well then what is it about?”

He opened and closed his mouth several times never managing to make an audible sound. Finally, frustrated and somewhat scared he yelled in her face, “I don’t know!” He took a calming breath. “I don’t know,” he repeated. “I don’t know I just don’t like it.”

Her face was scrunched up in annoyance and her hands were on her hips – she was ready to make a stand in this argument, but his last admission took the wind from her sails. She exhaled loudly and contemplated for a minute whether his words deserved an answer before muttering under her nose, “Oh, sod it!”

She pushed him around a bit and grasped his shoulders and said the most inane and appropriate phrase she could think of, “It’s going to be alright,” she promised putting as much conviction into her words as possible. And for some reason the promise felt more like an oath.

BBRBW

**One year and a couple of months later…**

The last trimester of Bella’s third year at Hogwarts was almost over and she visited now only about one time a week. She stepped out of the shadows to find Bruce intently studying math in bed.

“That is the _most_ pathetic sight I’ve seen lately _and_ I still study at Hogwarts,” she said.

Startled, he dropped the pen before turning to face her with a grin on his face. “I always strive to be first at everything,” he said.

Bella smirked and settled in an armchair by the table. His dorm room was spacious enough for a dorm room _and_ it was for him alone, which was a factor she infinitely envied him for, because at Hogwarts she had to share.

“How’ve you been?” she asked with honest curiosity in her tone. They didn’t meet as often as they used to so information didn’t flow between them as easy as before.

“Same old, same old,” he said with a smile and got off the bed, before walking over to the table and dropping in the chair opposite to hers. “I’ve learned which chemicals just don’t go together and it took just one afternoon. And an entire school wing.”

Bella laughed shortly. He had tried to explain some basic chemistry to her, but his version and the one in the book differed on so many points that she could easily imagine the results of his attempts at attaining a particular chemical reaction. _Boom_.

“What about you?” he asked.

Her expression clouded for a moment. She didn’t want to say it out loud, but she could feel it – the student body was slowly but definitely dividing. There were tinges of something foreboding in the air and everybody felt it. A new Dark Wizard was rising and then there was the matter of... “I’m losing my patience with those pranksters in my school,” she finally said.

“They’re not targeting you, are they?” there was a frown on his face and an edge in his tone.

“No,” she replied simply. “However, the chaos that suddenly erupts in one or another place of the castle is driving me mad. Once something goes up everybody rushes to see it like vultures to a corpse and that makes moving around without being pushed around practically impossible.”

“Ignore it,” Bruce advised knowing that that would have been her first response.

“There is only so much I can ignore, I swear that the next time chaos erupts because _the Marauders did it again_ I am cursing the whole bunch into the oblivion, consequences be damned,” she said heatedly.

He smiled. “I’d love to have some pictures of the oblivion and its poor inmates,” he quipped.

Bella arched her eyebrows. “I’ll see what I can do.”

BBRBW

**Ten months and two and a half weeks later...**

It was mid-April, just around Easter. Bella had just turned fifteen and she was lounging on the couch in the grand sitting room of the Wayne manor while Bruce was getting the door. It had been a while since they both had been here. She heard him invite the uninvited visitor in and frowned in annoyance. She was with him rare as it was, and she didn’t want to share her visiting time with anyone else.

She didn’t bother to look around as Bruce lead the other person into the sitting room.

“Uhm.. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable here and I’ll see whether Alfred has left something to snack on anywhere reachable?”

Bella was pretty sure that in there somewhere was a clear invitation for her to follow him to the kitchen, but she ignored him and did it silently.

“Hi,” the other girl said timidly once Bruce was out of the room.

Bella turned her head and immediately recognized Rachel. She grimaced.

“Bruce didn’t mention who you are… I’m Rachel,” the girl Bella knew all too well introduced herself. She took a step closer and extended her hand for handshake.

“I know,” Bella replied calmly and ignored the extended hand. She wasn’t surprised that Rachel could see her. She had been putting a Notice-Me-Not charm on herself for a couple of years now so that unfortunate by-standers or Alfred wouldn’t notice her; fortunately, for Alfred he wasn’t a very nosy valet and did leave Bruce to his own devices when asked, which meant that Bella hadn’t had to do anything drastic to him – like she had had to do with some of Bruce’s buddies at the boarding school.

“You do?” Rachel sounded mildly confused and awkwardly withdrew her hand. She walked around the coffee table and tried to sit down elegantly on the plush couch and was even somewhat successful. She smiled happily satisfied with the small success. There was something about the other teenager that made her want to prove herself. Somehow it reminded her of her childhood.

“Sure,” Bella said lightly. “Bruce has told me all about you.”

Rachel frowned. The atmosphere in the room was somewhat stiff and the air of superiority that the other girl seemed to breathe out had thrown her for a moment, but now that she thought of it, “I’ve seen you around before. Glimpses, but I know I have. How can that be?”

“Because I was around,” Bellatrix replied honestly amused.

“But Bruce has never told me about you. How long have you known him?”

“For years,” Bella stuck to short answers.

“ _I’ve_ known him for years and this is the first time I’m talking to you. I don’t even know your name!” Rachel felt offended and somewhat threatened. She had always thought that she was Bruce’s only childhood friend – the most important one, but now there was this other girl who claimed to have known him for… “How many years?”

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. Playing with Rachel when she was talking back was even more fun than playing with her when the silly girl had no idea what was going on. Not that she had any idea now – Bella was pretty sure of it. “Eight years, if you must know and you don’t know me, because _why should you?_ ”

“I’m Bruce’s friend!” Rachel exclaimed.

“So am I. That doesn’t make me your friend,” Bella made herself even more comfortable on her dark leather couch. It was so pleasantly soft she felt she could fall asleep, if she wouldn’t be afraid to wake up back in Hogwarts.

“But he told you about me! Why hasn’t he ever…”

“Well, _think_ a little,” Bella interrupted forcefully. She really wasn’t trying to insinuate anything much, besides the fact that she was the more important one and that Bruce was hers. Her friend.

Rachel had a lovely expression of distress on her face and Bella would have loved to let the girl angst some more, but she heard steps in the distance and knew that Bruce was coming, and she had pretences to keep up. She whipped out her wand and pointed it at Rachel. “Obliviate!” she hissed.

It wasn’t her best spell – her being an astral projection caused and powered by an outburst of accidental magic as a child – but it would hold. At least until Rachel had the misfortune to run into her again – then the girl would most likely remember everything up to the spell. Maybe even the spell.

“I found cookies!” Bruce called cheerfully entering the sitting room. “No condensed milk, though. I think Alfred hides it better these days,” he set the tray he’d been carrying on the table.

Bella stood quickly knowing that the daze in which the spell had left Rachel wouldn’t last much longer. “Well, now that you’ve got other company, I think I’ll get going.”

“Bella, you don’t have to!” he protested quietly under his nose. He had had years to practice and he had discovered that there was no way to talk to yourself in public and appear normal.

“I think I do,” she said. “I’m far too old to get my kicks by mimicking someone and enjoying being unseen,” she knew her words came out somewhat bitter, but she couldn’t help it. It might be more than a month before she’d get to visit again and who knew if Rachel wouldn’t deign to darken the doorstep again on that precise weekend.

“I’m sorry,” he said subdued.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Don’t be. It’s of no use,” she squeezed his shoulder and concentrated – knowing that there was a mental hook she just had to tug in her mind to get going. “See you sometime later,” she said before vanishing before his very eyes.

“Cookies … Bruce?” Rachel asked blinking rapidly. She was pretty sure she had spaced out for a couple of minutes, but unsure why. She looked at Bruce staring sadly at an empty space. “Bruce?”

“Yeah, cookies,” he turned to her and dropped down onto the couch in Bella’s previous place. It still held her warmth.

BBRBW

**Three more years later – late June…**

Bruce was on a sofa in his bedroom in Wayne Manor, reading his History textbook – he had finished his exams and had no need for extra studying, but he found the activity to be soothing – kind of like leaping through the Physics textbook and enjoying everything you don’t have to know anymore. Suddenly he looked up.

During the years he had known Bella, he had learned to sense her arrival. It was like an instinct he had developed. Her coming was something softer than wind – the replaced air rippled around the room in waves just like water in the lake ripples when a stone is thrown in. And, yes, there she was – stepping out of the shadows like usually.

Bella took a step forward and graced him with a small albeit rather forced smile. The graduation party had ended, and she had finally found a place to lay her head. She had found herself exactly where she had expected to be once she had closed her eyes.

He stood and walked up to her. “You look great,” he said sincerely. “What’s the occasion?”

She glanced down at herself and frowned. She was still in her evening gown. Strange. She had thought about a change in outfit the moment she took the first step in the room. Strange, but not unexpected. Dread settled somewhere in her stomach. She walked over to the armchair and sat down. “Graduation party,” she said quietly and motioned for him to sit in the other chair, opposite to her.

“Is something wrong?” her expression worried him. He sat down in the armchair.

“You know,” she started looking somewhere over his shoulder. She had little time and a lot to say. She had never expected anything from their continued and initially forced acquaintance and found the coldness and indescribable fear slowly seeping into her bones both surprising and painful. She had put this conversation off for far too long.

“You know, how at first I ‘visited’ every day and then gradually I showed up rarer and rarer,” she said finally turning her gaze to him. She gritted her teeth and suppressed a shiver. Maybe contrary to what she claimed, she did know what being a friend was and maybe this was how it felt to lose one.

Bruce nodded. He was frozen in his seat. He wished to any god that would listen that he wouldn’t see where she was going with this, but he had known her for too long. He knew what she wanted to say even when she didn’t say it.

“I used to change outfits every hour at my convenience in the beginning,” her short laugh was forced and seemed hollow as she recounted their early antics. _I’ve known you for half my life,_ she couldn’t look him in the eyes. _How am I to let you go now?_

“It was funny when you accidentally ended up in a tux that was way too big for you,” he said quietly forcing a small smile. If they delved into past maybe they could stave off the future – at least for a moment.

Bella nodded, an unconscious smile mirroring his graced her face. “I also used to have bursts of accidental magic,” she continued.

“I remember when you vanished the grand staircase for an hour,” he chuckled. “It was a good thing that poor Alfred was sick with flu and was sleeping at the time.” He blinked to lessen the burning he felt behind his eyes.

She exhaled. “I’ve tried to research our situation and a few months ago I realized – this has to have something to do with my accidental magic as a child,” she said. “The thing is that with years I gain more and more control of my magic which is why I ‘visit’ less and less.”

He stared at her, tried his hardest to burn her picture in his memory. Childhood was over. The dream was over. “Bellatrix…” His voice broke over her name.

“This is the last time,” she said with finality in her tone. Bellatrix could hold his look for only a moment – she could not stand it a second longer. She saw too much of herself reflected there. Too much of things she would not say. He was a Muggle and she was a witch. It was never meant to be. “We are from different worlds.”

Bruce shook his head in denial and rose from the chair; he walked over the window and turned his back to her. He hastily wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and proceeded to stare at the darkness before him trying to find words for a goodbye.

She didn’t even start to try to understand how he felt – she could not take that and pile it upon her own pain. It was too much. She did know that she was hurting him. And the worst part about it was that she was _lying_. She could have chosen not to do this. They existed on the same planet, in the same time, in same universe, just... in different albeit parallel worlds – the Muggle and the Wizarding one. _He must never know._

“Will you not look at me?” she asked, her voice quiet but unwavering.

He hastily turned around. There was a stricken look on his face for a moment before he composed himself.

“Hold me,” Bruce pleaded suddenly.

She saw pain and longing in his face and it almost cracked her own mask. She could see he needed her by the very way he was standing – the manner in which he was slightly leaning towards her and barely holding himself together. Bellatrix wished she could care less. She wished she could hate his neediness, his dependence on her. She wished she could see him as weak and useless for it. She wished her hands wouldn’t shake. She stood and extended her arms towards him.

He rapidly closed the distance between them and enveloped her in a hug. He held her closely and absent-mindedly noted that she had never seemed as real as now. He could feel the warmth she radiated, he could smell her perfume and the material of her dress was the softest piece of cloth he had ever touched. She was aggravating, offensive and downright nasty at times and she had been _his_ friend, the best friend he had ever had. He had asked her to hold him, but it was him clutching her.

He didn’t want to let her go. Ever. “Please don’t go.” _Please._

She reluctantly returned the hug. She had kept him as a closely guarded secret for half her life. He had become closer to her than any other – he was more than a friend, more than confidant. He knew _her_ she knew _him_ , and … It was for the best if he didn’t know that her world existed right there, truly beside his. It was for the best if he thought that he would never see her again, that she wasn’t real. Her world was on the brink of a war that might very well destroy it and she had a part to play in it while Bruce had nothing to do with any of that mess – it was her world, her heritage and _her mess._

Bellatrix Black could not afford to have a friend. Much less a Muggle friend. That was how it was to be, but she wasn’t sorry. Not for the time, effort – not for the _life_ that she had lived with him. She wasn’t sorry for growing up next to a Muggle boy. But then why should she? She had _had_ a friend and she will always have the last eleven years and Bruce will always be there – in her memories. The thought made something constrict painfully in her chest.

She pressed a light kiss to his temple. She cherished him more than she had ever admitted to him or herself and even though _she knew that he knew_ – it helped now that it had never been said aloud.

It all just might have been imaginary. A childhood fancy.

In the end she was glad he didn’t ask if there was anything she could do. She would have hated to lie more.

He clutched her close and hard - as hard as he could and not minding that he might be crushing her or leaving bruises. He kept his eyes closed and his face pressed in her hair. He didn’t let go. At all.

His empty arms fell against his sides sometime around the middle of the night, but he stood unmoving near her favourite windowsill until the first rays of sun lightened the horizon. He felt that he had to see whether a new day truly came after the darkest hour.


	2. Intentional Magic

Bella kept her eyes closed. She had done what needed to be done; it was over. She felt the soft material of a sofa against her naked shoulders, smelled the faint stink of smoke and alcohol in the air, and heard the numbing silence - all of which were telltale signs as to where she was. She grudgingly opened her eyes and pushed off the cloak that she had draped over herself.

She stood up, stumbling a bit. She glanced at the grand clock that was hanging on a wall further down the hall and found that she had been ‘sleeping’ for barely two hours. Bella waved her wand and removed the privacy and warning charms she had hastily set up before letting herself succumb to the irresistible call of magical dreams. She smoothed her hands over her dress to make herself a bit more presentable and decided that it was due time for her to leave.

The original graduation ball had been held at Hogwarts Great Hall and hadn’t been anything worthy of notice. It had been a feast – similar to all others that had been held there. The Blacks had felt that their firstborn daughter deserved far more grandeur than what the school had offered to mark such an event in her life and had thrown a party of their own. A week after the original graduation all Hogwarts alumni of said year were invited to attend a ball that was held in the Grand Wizarding Opera which was situated somewhere on the island of South Uist.

Muggleborns, especially, had been awed by the place of the event. It was likely that most of them will never visit this place again. Grand Wizarding Opera is a Wizarding architectural masterpiece built in mid-17th century and deeply influenced by the Baroque style. The tickets to the performances are very expensive and the expected attire costs even more. To put it simply - Wizarding Opera of South Uist was a place where the cream of Europe’s Wizarding society circulated.

To be frank, Bella thought that the place was borderline gaudy, but that was expected considering that the ownership of the place was divided between the Malfoy, the Black and the Montague Families, and everyone knows that Montagues have no taste.

The party had lasted until wee hours of the morning when most of the public finally retired which meant they had either disgracefully passed out from too much wine or had found some piece furniture that could be used for sleeping and had less disgracefully passed out on that. The musicians had remained in their respective places but had abandoned playing their instruments to playing cards. Bella thought it to be highly unprofessional although understandable. Inviting _everyone_ hadn’t been a very bright idea even if politically correct.

She made her way down the hall, her steps quiet against the polished marble floor. Bellatrix was about to step in the Entrance Hall when she heard commotion in it. She stopped. Something about the situation made her uneasy and she had long since realized that there was no such thing as unhealthy paranoia in the Wizarding world. She stood out of sight and listened.

“ _Ennervate_ ,” the speaker’s voice was cold, impatient and laced with power. “Where is Bellatrix Black?” there was only one wizard whose voice commanded such authority and who would look for her so soon after becoming ‘fully-trained’ and free of allegiances. As a student her allegiance had been with her school by default, but now..

She couldn’t clearly hear the answer; it was some unintelligible, drunken murmuring. There was a thump and cursing. Apparently, the questioner hadn’t understood anything either. She heard steps coming closer.

Bella acted quickly. She couldn’t avoid the meeting, but there were many possible ways for it to go down. She pulled pins from her hair and tousled them. She also crumpled her gown to make her look even more disheveled. Then she stepped a couple of steps back and fell down in a highly exaggerated manner.

She was attempting to pull herself up, consciously tripping over her own extremities when _he_ walked up to her and unceremoniously pulled her up. He kept firm grip on her elbow while looking her over. Strands of hair fell in front of her face and she made a faint attempt at blowing them off with her breath before pulling her lips in a too wide grin. Bella saw the calculating gleam in his eye as he stared at her. She made a vague motion with her hand making a halfhearted attempt at fixing her hair and almost back-handed him, but he caught her hand before it connected with his jaw. She swayed and presented the man who called himself Lord Voldemort with the most drunken expression she could produce.

“This is not how I intended our first meeting to pass,” he murmured distaste evident in his tone. “I am Lord Voldemort,” he introduced himself his voice strong and commanding.

Bella suppressed the urge to shiver, if she were truly drunk, she believed that this voice could call her to sobriety instantly. Magic sang in him, dark and vibrant it called to her as well. There were so few of those who were so _natural_ with magic nowadays that… She pushed at him and giggled, “Trixie!”

He steadied the drunken witch. He had expected that the witch who was Walburga’s heiress in all but direct blood would have had the good sense to not get drunk in a _party_. “Pleasure,” he spat before releasing her and distancing himself. He had already wasted too much of his precious time. He couldn’t recruit a drunken witch. Binding magic required clear mind and control neither of which the witch possessed at the moment, obviously.

As soon as he let her go, Bella fell back to floor pretending to be unable to keep her own footing. “Ow,” she moaned pathetically.

There was no reason for him to stay; it was obvious that there would be no sensible talking with any of this mass of drunken fools. “We will meet again,” he said his tone full of conviction. He left as quickly as he had arrived.

Bella waited until she heard the entrance door closing before she moved again. This time her movements were graceful and efficient, she stood without trouble. She had little time. She didn’t doubt that Voldemort would seek her out again at the earliest convenience.

In another time and in another world, she may have been thrilled at the prospect, however now all she felt was dread. Her independent nature rebelled at the thought of being branded and serving anything but magic itself no matter how glorious the service may appear to be. However, she couldn’t outright refuse Voldemort - not now.

His power attracted her; it sang to her very blood. She was a Dark witch from a Dark family. And he was a Dark lord. It was a vulnerability against which she had no defense yet. She had many paths to walk before she’d come into her own power and his would no longer tempt her, because it would be so easy… To take his hand and become priestess of the dark magic – to take that birthright through a shortcut, without waiting and pay for it with allegiance that could not be broken by wand or mind.

No. She had to disappear. She had to distance herself to buy time.

Dumbledore had never been an option – the man wouldn’t be able to hide her good enough and should she be offered to spy - she would double-cross him the minute she was with Voldemort. She had barely kept her act up now in these few moments with _him_ so close, she could never do it for any considerable length of time. She lost herself with him. Something about the Dark Lord fascinated and aroused her, she had no defense against him. His magic called to her, seduced her in a way that was almost unnatural. She had to disappear where no wizard would find her and bide her time. Her father had long ago provided her with an option. The Muggle world.

Bella didn’t sigh and she didn’t bemoan the turn of events – she had no time for that. She had known that everything was about to change. Peace had never been an option.

BBRBW

An hour after the sun had risen in the sky Bruce wrote a short note to Alfred and left it at the door of the butler’s bedroom before taking a random car from the garage and driving off. He had no destination. He just wanted to be on the move, to do _something_.

He turned to the highway and pushed the gas pedal. He was angry. Because this wasn’t fair. He was upset. Because there was nothing he could do. He was afraid. Because he didn’t know _what_ to do. He was mourning. Because he would never see her again.

He exceeded the speed limit and let go of the wheel in a conscious effort to challenge fate. The road was empty, and the car ran straight and true until he grasped the wheel again and turned off the highway.

He drove around aimlessly all day. He didn’t find what he had been looking for because she hadn’t been real, and she was gone anyway. By the time he was back at the Wayne manor, he was tired, although still restless.

He went straight to the kitchen feeling a strong need for a cup of Alfred’s favorite tea. He was already sitting at the table and slowly sipping the hot liquid when Alfred walked in.

“Had a good day, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked. “Dinner?”

Small smile graced Bruce’s face. Alfred never directly demanded an answer as to where Bruce had been and what he had done. Bruce could appreciate that. “No, thank you.”

“Very well,” Alfred said although it did look like he suspected that something had happened. He turned around to make something for himself; he for one did want to eat.

“Alfred,” Bruce spoke up. His gaze was fixed on the mug and his tone had a far-away quality. “I lost my best friend today,” he was trembling and his eyes were red.

Alfred turned to look at the boy he had been entrusted with. “Something happened to Miss Rachel?”

“No, Alfred,” Bruce shook his head. “Rachel’s fine.” He lifted his gaze to look at his mentor, “A different friend.” He wiped his dry eyes with the back of his hand. “Another…”

“I shall make another pot of that tea, then,” Alfred said. He didn’t know what had happened to his charge and he supposed he might never know, but that didn’t stop him from being there and offering support. Just like he had done every day since young Master Bruce had been brought home for the first time from the hospital.

BBRBW

Once she was at home, Bella went straight to her father’s study. It was early, but she knew that he would be there. He claimed he liked to do a little work in the mornings while there still was some peace and quiet in the manor. She didn’t knock before opening the door.

Cygnus looked up from the contract he had been reading to the unexpected guest. Nobody in the Family bothered to knock; sometimes he wondered whether it really hadn’t been a waste of money – the continuous installing of new doors during Druella’s first pregnancy, it wasn’t like they were allowed to serve their purpose.

“Good morning, Bellatrix,” he greeted his daughter warily.

Bella didn’t answer right away. At first she poured a double portion of whiskey and placed the glass in front of her father, only then she spoke, “Morning, father.” She seated herself in a seat across of him.

Cygnus eyed the drink. “Somebody burned the Opera to the ground?”

“Voldemort came looking for me,” Bella said her tone flat.

“And…,” Cygnus paused. “Did he find you?”

“Yes,” Bella said her tone somewhat resigned. “I was on my way to the entrance hall when I heard commotion in it. I stopped to listen – I had never heard him before but there was no mistaking it,” she paused and turned her gaze to the window. “He has such power…” her voice trailed off as did her thoughts. She had met Voldemort in person only once – this morning and yet he – the idea of him - made shivers run down her spine and the feeling wasn't entirely unpleasant.

The darkness in the Dark Lord called to the dark and brutal legacy in her blood and she felt lust, and love, and desire for a man she hardly knew. It terrified her how much he fascinated and how large a control he had over her without doing anything at all besides existing. She breathed deeply. It would be so easy to just give in to all that she felt – let her emotions and legacy rule her and damn the rest.

“What happened?” Cygnus snapped to shake her out of her contemplation.

Bella looked at her father, startled. This is why she had had to lie to Bruce. This is why she had had to leave him behind. She couldn’t trust herself with him. “I pretended to be drunk,” she replied. “He bought the act and left with a promise to return.”

Cygnus downed his drink in one swing and two gulps. “Good,” he said.

BBRBW

Cygnus had been wary ever since the talk about a new Dark Lord who favored purebloods and the Old Ways had started. He clearly remembered Mynatt’s words about the dark path that lay in front of his daughter and all the things associated with it. A sect under control of a powerful wizard bent on purging everything that wasn’t traditional screamed ‘danger’ to Cygnus. After all, there were ways older than the Old Ways.

Cygnus had known for ages that his sister’s sons weren’t cut out to be the Head of the Black Family. It wasn’t just that the eldest boy turned to his Gryffindor friends and disdained his legacy – it was the fact that Macmillan blood ran stronger in him than Black – Sirius’ magic was Light. And even if a strong Light wizard could try to lead a Dark Family – Sirius used every chance to reject that. And Regulus while a Dark wizard was no match for someone who was born to be a priestess of Dark Magic. And Cygnus didn’t know _how_ Walburga had found that out about Bellatrix, but she _had._ And ever since then…

Ever since then his sister sought influence over Bellatrix as she was the heir presumptive. 

In order to protect his daughter Cygnus had put plans in motion even before her birth. Before he could suspect any of this. He had done everything in his power to raise her differently from the way he had been raised. He hadn't taught her to hate things that were different from traditional, he had taught her to either embrace or endure a change. He had taught her to strive in difficult circumstances. He had introduced her to the Muggle world. He had taught her what it meant to be a Black and had showed her who everyone else was. He had raised her strong and independent. He had let her mother teach her that she was more than a Black, that she also had the blood of Rosiers running through her veins, a whole other legacy altogether, and that she had options and the strength to utilize them.

When the distant threat in form of Lord Voldemort had risen, Cygnus had started to wage his own secret war against the other wizard. A war for his daughter’s future. A war Cygnus had not been disposed to lose. Cygnus had organized summer schools for Bella in the Muggle world. He had provided her with all the knowledge she might need to successfully disappear among the Muggles should the need be.

Now when Voldemort finally knocked on Cygnus’ metaphorical door – it felt far too soon, but Cygnus was ready. He had all the documentation needed to prove Bella’s identity and any required past achievements to successfully hide her among Muggles. Cygnus had bought her time and opportunity. He had done everything he could have and given her everything she needed – now it was up to her to make most of it. His part in this chess game was over.

When he handed her the papers, he said, “With graduation, daughter.”

BBRBW

**The same day – evening…**

Bella stopped on the other side of the gate which marked the end of the anti-apparition wards of the manor. She eyed her father who was leaning against the gatepost and smoking. She had never seen her father smoke before.

“The credit card I gave you,” he started. “Use it. The money won’t be traced back to the Family,” he said.

Bella pulled the small plastic card from her pocket and turned it in her fingers. “Rosier Limited?”

“Yes. Whatever wasn’t put back into the company went there. I’ve never used it,” he said putting out his cigar. “It’s all yours,” Cygnus said seriously. “As is Rosier Limited once you are ready to take it.”

Bella looked her father in the eye. She nodded after a moment. “Not yet though,” she finally said.

“Not yet,” he agreed. “Visit sometime,” he added before turning and walking back to the house. The walk had never felt so long. This morning he will have to tell his wife that another part of that long-ago prophecy has come true. _Strength will flee._ And Cygnus felt like his strength had left him as well.

Bella took one last look at the plastic card before putting it back into her pocket. She didn’t look back at the manor and resisting the childish urge to call for her father and cling to him for safety and comfort, she Apparated with a small pop to a Muggle airport.

BBRBW

**Forty nine weeks later…**

She stood by a grand oak tree and watched the grave in the distance. There was no funeral procession or rituals. She was three weeks too late for that. This was an odd day in the middle of the week – a day with no relation or significance to her or her family. This was the 22nd day since her mother was laid to rest, 25th since her mother died and this was the first time that she had come to pay her respects.

She tried sneering, but her bottom lip was trembling, so she settled for scowling, it let her squint her eyes which made it easier to blink away any tears that had yet to fall. She stood there watching from distance for a long time before she felt sure enough that nobody else was stalking her mother’s grave – that it was safe to approach.

She walked like she owned the cemetery – which she did, through her family. Her back was straight, the heels of her charmed shoes did not dig into the soft grass, her head was held high and though scowling – she looked straight ahead.

She looked at the cold marble that was magically carved to represent her mother’s face and sat heavily on the stone bench before the grave. The likeness of the image was very lifelike and smiling – that smile made Bellatrix feel more bitter than consoled. She drew breath and tried to speak several times before any words made it past her lips.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring flowers, Mother,” she said finally.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there _when_ you fell ill, I’m sorry I wasn’t there _while_ you were ill. I think I’m supposed to be sorry that I wasn’t there when you died, but I’m not,” she admitted conversationally. “Not really, anyway. I guess I’m sorry, because I’m happy that my last memory of you is perfect, because you were perfect. My perfect Mother,” her voice broke and she took a pause and a deep breath to compose herself.

“And you would tell me not to be sorry, because for all my protests – you did know me almost best of all. Even better than Father. Maybe even better than…,” she sighed cutting herself off. She didn’t want to speak Bruce’s name out loud. She was sure that she wasn’t being watched, but secrets and names spoken out loud attracted bad luck in these times.

“So, I guess that everything I said – it doesn’t matter and I just… I…,” it wasn’t that she couldn’t speak; she just didn’t know what to say. What words would best describe the nameless weight that was crushing her from inside? What words would best describe that she knew that one day it will be easy to breathe again and somehow that seemed even worse?

She wasn’t good with emotions. She wasn’t good with feelings. She trusted more her mind than her heart, because she knew how easily her passions could be lead astray so she always kept her emotions in a tight hold, so she never really knew what it is that she felt.

“I just really, really hate that you’re gone,” the quiet and simple admission felt like a kick in the gut.

She closed her eyes and let her chin drop to her chest. She sat mourning quietly in silence and showing respect for good couple of minutes till she heard soft steps behind her. Her body tensed and she reached for her wand, but before she could act the newcomer spoke.

“I’ve been coming here every day since Mom died, I never gave up hope that someday you’ll be here too,” Andromeda said.

Bella looked up sharply and then stood, extending her hands towards her middle and favourite sister, in silent greeting. She used the moment to assess how well her sibling was and she wasn’t pleased. Andy’s young, round face was pale and altogether gray looking, her usually warm dark eyes were dull and with red smudges on skin around them, she was thinner than she should be and looked far too tired and old for a young woman about to graduate Hogwarts.

Andromeda sniffed loudly, let the flowers drop from her arms to the ground and crushed her body against her elder sister. She hugged Bellatrix tightly and let big, round tears fall on Bella’s expensive coat. “I’ve missed you so much,” she cried quietly. “And then Mom died and everything fell apart... I miss Mom so much!”

There was barely a year difference between them, but Andromeda was open with her affections and thoughts in a way Bellatrix had never been. Privately Bellatrix thought whether that had anything to do with Andy’s magic being Light or if that was just her sister’s personality. Due to intermarriage it happened that Dark families had Light withes or wizards and Light families had Dark ones, but… _Not that often._ And now there were two in a generation for Blacks – Sirius and Andromeda.

“I know, I know,” Bella soothed the best she could. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” she said and only then realized that she genuinely felt that way. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised; Andromeda had always been her favorite sibling. “I’m here now.”

“You know Cissy is furious with you. She believes it means you abandoned us,” Andromeda whispered to Bella’s coat lapels before taking a deep breath and letting all the thoughts and grievances that had amassed in the past year be betrayed to her sister. “She’s angry that she can’t tell anyone that you’re not really missing. She’s angry that you went away at all. She was angry at Mom and Dad too, but then Mom died and… I think she’s sorry that she was so mad, but she never really talks to me anymore and I don’t really know how to reach her… Whenever I try it’s like I end up pushing her away and this year is my last chance with her because then she will be at Hogwarts all alone, and...”

Through all the flood of information there was one unspoken message, one demand that dominated everything else and Bellatrix for once heard it loud and clear _‘Make it all better’_. Bellatrix wasn’t sure what exactly she was going to do, but she knew that she was going to step up to the job, just like her father and mother had done for her. She kissed her sister’s forehead and promised, “I’m going to make everything alright.”

BBRBW

**Fifteen months later…**

Adrian heard the door open and looked up. “Bella!” he called out instantly recognizing his visitor. “Please, sit!” he gestured to the seat across him. “It’s been a long time since I last saw you,” he said.

“About three years to be precise,” Bella took the offered seat.

“Tea, coffee?” he asked pushing a button to call his secretary. Speaking of his secretary, how did… “How did you get past Amy?”

Bella smiled a small smile. “I sneaked in,” she said. “And I’ll take coffee.”

Adrian returned the smile and asked for two coffees. “I met your father a couple of months ago. He doesn’t come here as often as he used to,” he said conversationally.

Bella blinked. “I wasn’t aware.”

Their conversation was interrupted by opening of the door. Amy stepped in bringing their coffees along. She blinked upon seeing Bella – she hadn’t noticed anybody walking in – but didn’t say anything; it wasn’t her place, especially if she didn’t want to call attention to her own inattentiveness. Amy didn’t recognize her previous charge in the young woman sitting at the table. She placed the cups and the sugar-basin on the desk and excused herself.

Once the door was closed, Adrian spoke, “You wouldn’t be,” there was no judgment in his tone of voice. He put two lumps of sugar in his coffee and mixed it with an elaborate silver teaspoon. “He comes only to visit me and ask whether you have popped in recently,” his tone was plain. “I hear that it’s been a year since you last gave notice of yourself.”

Bella frowned. “I have my reasons,” she retorted stiffly.

That time more than a year ago, she had taken Andy and Narcissa with her for the rest of the month until the new school year began and while their father had managed to keep the fact that none of Ladies Black were at the Black Manor a secret; the Platform had been unexpectedly full of paparazzi’s on the 1st September, and Bellatrix had had to do some serious back-tracking after that. Aside from disappearing completely again, she had had to Obliviate seven wizards and witches who were photographers, destroy a lot of pictures and cameras, not to mention have a witch die in a rather unfortunate accident, because the woman was unable to keep any sort of information to herself. Nobody was ever going to find out what really happened to Rita Skeeter. And still Bella couldn’t be completely sure that Voldemort didn’t know how to find her.

She _had_ her reasons for being out of contact still.

Adrian looked hard at her. He sighed. “Drink your coffee while it’s still warm,” he suggested finally.

“What do you mean by ‘only to visit me’?” she asked staring at him. She remembered that her father had been very active in the work of the company.

“You do know that the company officially belongs to you?”

Bella racked through her memory until she came across the memory of the evening when she left the manor. She slowly shook her head and her lips formed into a small smile. “I suppose I should have.”

Adrian huffed. “Well, it’s been yours since you turned seventeen,” he said. “Any major changes you’d like to make?” his tone was somewhat teasing.

Bella shook her head lightly and took a sip of the coffee. She frowned before remarking, “It’s actually good.”

“Of course, it is,” Adrian assured. “It’s our coffee, after all.”

“Funny,” she said a moment later. “The main reason I came here was to ask if I could do the field practice for my degree in Rosier Limited.”

“The playground’s all yours,” Adrian replied.

BBRBW

**A year and a half later…**

The spring was finally here after what felt like eternal winter. The sun was shining, she had just turned twenty. Andromeda was in her final year of Apprenticeship at St. Mungo’s and she had just passed her final qualifications. Starting July, she would be a fully qualified Mediwitch and after another two years she could become a first level Healer and then there was specialization, and…

“Oh, no!” Ted groaned before plopping down on the chair at Fortescue’s opposite to Andy. “I know that expression. It usually means that I’ll spend my afternoon lunch-less and organizing supplies or medical texts!”

Theodore Tonks was a Muggleborn wizard and fellow Apprentice at St. Mungo’s though more than that – he was Andromeda’s best friend since Hogwarts.

Though still a Black through to the core, Andromeda had always been the more relaxed of the Black sisters, so she felt completely free to roll her eyes at her best friend’s mock horror. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she laughed. “I’m just fantasizing about next year.”

Ted raised an eyebrow, “Now that’s a scary thought,” he said good-naturedly.

“I’ll show you scary!” Andromeda laughed and moved to swat him lightly on the arm but ended up knocking her own bag from the chair. A single piece of parchment fluttered out from the handbag and fell near Ted’s feet.

“What’s this?” he asked as he picked the paper up while helping Andy gather her fallen things.

“Ted, no!” Andromeda exclaimed, suddenly terrified, and reached to pull the paper from his hands.

“What is it?” he laughed unfolding the paper. “Is it a love letter? For whom? Or rather from who…” Andromeda lunged again after the letter, but Ted was already skimming over the text. “Dromeda, it’s from… It’s from your sister!” he said quietly. “It’s from Bellatrix Black and dated barely a week ago!”

The sun was still shining, and it was still summer here in Diagon Alley, but Andromeda felt like she’d walked miles in a blizzard only to realize she had been going in the wrong direction. She felt cold and petrified. It took all she had to get her jaw to move enough to make out a plea, “Please don’t tell anyone!”

Ted looked at her exasperated, “Of course I won’t. I’m your best friend, remember?” he handed her the letter back. “It’s just your sister’s like a myth or a legend. Everybody thinks she’s missing…” There had been search parties and even bounties for any information that lead to the safe return of Lady Bellatrix Black.

“And it has to stay that way!” Andromeda exclaimed interrupting, and hastily hid the letter in the secret inner pocket of her robe.

“Sure,” Ted agreed. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” he looked a bit insulted.

Andy caught his meaning, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but…” She bit her bottom lip nervously and scooted closer to Ted so they could talk more quietly. “It’s just the last time I screwed up I didn’t see her for more than a year, and you _are_ my best mate and all, but this is just huge. Even Narcissa tells no one.”

Ted nodded, pacified. “I get it. It’s okay. I’ll tell no one.”

“Thank you,” Andy smiled relieved. “One day I’ll tell you everything,” she promised.

BBRBW

**180 days later…**

Bruce was staring out of the window of his private plane and distinctly wishing that he had boarded a public airplane. Maybe the chatter of surrounding people would drown his own thoughts.

He couldn’t wholeheartedly believe that they were going to let his parents’ murderer walk away. He just couldn’t understand it. What could possibly justify the man even before their corrupt courts to let him go? In his eyes there was nothing that could do that. Bruce thought that the man should have received death penalty fifteen years ago.

His thoughts turned towards the gun lying in his suitcase. He didn’t want to shoot the man, not really. Bruce just wanted him dead and if nobody else was going to do it then he would. He believed that his parents deserved justice. In the ancient times there had been a law _‘eye for an eye’_ , it was a pity that Joe Chill couldn’t die two times.

If the courts wouldn’t give him justice, he would bring it upon them. He needed to know that the man who had destroyed his life would not walk free on the streets ever again. He wasn’t a murderer, but he needed revenge. He deserved his revenge and his parents deserved justice. Bruce was going to make sure that he and his family got satisfaction for the crime committed against them. One way or another.

BBRBW

**A year later…**

Bella shifted through the documents that were on her table. It had been a few months since she had taken full control of the Rosier Limited – she had kept Adrian as the chief executive officer, of course. That didn’t mean she had nothing to do. Adrian had helpfully supplied her with a load of projects to approve or cast away; as he put it – it was an exercise for her to exercise her will in driving the company’s vision and future.

She took a sip from her cup of coffee and opened a new file. She almost spit it all over the paper. It was a theoretical space tourism project that proposed a probable collaboration with Wayne Enterprises. She stared hard at the page.

It had been little more than five years since she had cut all connections with Bruce Wayne. She had deliberately looked away from Wayne Enterprises while studying economics focusing all her efforts and required research to her own company or those from the continent. It had been all too easy to make herself oblivious. Half of the world was Bruce’s and the other half was hers and somehow half the globe had been enough. At least for some time.

Bellatrix had never doubted her decision to end their friendship all those years ago. But that was then and now… Now she felt safe and comfortable. Voldemort was far from her mind and everyday life, and she had a legitimate reason to be interested.

She had never forgotten.

Absentmindedly she made a call to her secretary telling her to book first possible flight to Gotham City. The preparation of one of her private planes and collaboration of a flight plan with the appropriate institutions would take too much time.

She would have to take a commercial flight.

BBRBW

**Eleven hours later…**

Bellatrix Black does not do stupid things. Hence her impromptu flight to Gotham City was perfectly reasonable and sensible. Showing up at the front door of a boy who thought her to be as good as dead was excusable as well - mainly because she was doing the 'showing up'. Not calling made the most sense because she did not know the number to his private phone and had no patience to wait for it to be looked up since private numbers in certain circles are more guarded secrets than the ages of their owners.

She took a taxi from the airport to the Wayne manor. The drive wasn't entirely pleasant as she found the car to be too worn down and noisy not to mention that the manor apparently was located on the other side of the metropolis. She was glad that she had taken a Pepper Up potion after the entirely too long eight-hour flight. Bella swore that this was the penultimate time she used such means to travel so far. Unfortunately, since she had legally entered as a Muggle, she had to exit the country the same way.

The car pulled up by the front door of the manor and her previously deeply annoyed expression changed into a light smile. Childhood memories are of the best kind and she had a lot of them about this place. She paid for the fare and got out of the car telling the driver not to wait. Under no circumstances she was going to subject herself to the torture that was a taxi ever again even if she had no choice but to leave by plane since her passport needed the official stamp that said she’d indeed left stateside after arriving in the first place.

She stood for a minute and gazed at the house. It hadn't changed. Bella walked up to the door and rang the bell. Her heartbeat all jittery and excited in a way she did not entirely approve.

It wasn't long until the doors opened. "How may I help you?"

Bella couldn't refrain from smiling. She recognized the grey-haired man all too well - it was Alfred and it seemed he hadn't changed at all. She was silent for a moment just savouring the sight of a figure from her childhood.

"I'd like to speak with Bruce Wayne," she said slowly. It felt strange to pronounce the name of her old-time friend to another person. She had never talked about her 'dreams' to anyone. To think of it, she hadn’t spoken Bruce’s name aloud in five years, since they said their goodbyes.

Alfred frowned and stepped aside. "Come in, Miss."

Bella stepped in and cast a cursory glance around. The white sheets on items were rather disturbing, but otherwise the place was like what she remembered. She turned her questioning gaze to the butler.

"You don't know do you?" Alfred asked carefully watching the guest's reaction.

"Know what, Alfred?" she questioned back. Alfred had her respect for unfailingly being at her friend's side even when she _would not_ rather than could not.

"Bruce Wayne has been missing for more than a year," he said.

Breath caught up in her throat. She thought she felt her heart missing a beat; everything seemed to stop for a second before a wry smile settled on her face, covering the disappointment that she felt. "Figures," she whispered. _Fate, huh._

"Is there anything else you'd like? Tea, for starters?" Alfred asked. Nobody had ever came asking for Bruce in such a manner and he was intrigued as to who his guest was, what connection did she have with his charge and how come she didn't know that Bruce had gone missing after all – Bruce Wayne was … Bruce Wayne. It was more curiosity than hospitality that made him extend the offer to her.

Bella frowned and thought for a moment. Her gaze once again travelled the hall. "I'd like to see the grounds from the second-floor gallery in the east wing, if I may," she asked.

Puzzled, but nonetheless intrigued, Alfred acquiesced to her request. However, to his disappointment once up there, she just took a long look outside the windows and didn’t say anything mysterious anymore.

Only when she left Alfred realized that she hadn't called for a car to pick her up, that she had called him by his name and never told her own. She’d been so odd, came around and had left so suddenly that by dinner Alfred was almost sure he had imagined her.

BBRBW

**A year and five months later…**

He was late. The meeting of the Order of the Phoenix was already half-way done but he supposed that they ought to be thankful - not that they'd be - that he had made it there at all. He stepped into the large dining room interrupting a discussion that was getting rather heated.

"Ahhh, Severus," Dumbledore said. "I'm glad you made it."

"I have news," he said shortly and sat down in an empty seat by the end of the table.

"And do we have to drag them out of you?" Sirius snapped annoyed at the suspense.

He glared at Sirius. A retort was already on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped himself in the last possible moment and smiled coldly at his childhood rival. “I presume you remember your uncle Lord Cygnus Black,” he said.

“Yeah,” Sirius replied. “He and his family were the only ones I actually liked among the Blacks,” he said for the benefit of others. A frown settled on his face. “What of it?”

“The Death Eaters know where to look for Bellatrix Black,” Severus said calmly.

Sirius stopped swinging on his chair and his expression turned serious. James looked at his friend in concern while Lily tugged at James’ arm asking what the matter was. The noise level rose rapidly at the table as most were confused about the importance of such news. Finally, Dumbledore snapped with his wand creating a loud _crack_ which shocked everyone into silence.

“James, would you care to explain the significance of this to the others?” Dumbledore asked politely.

James looked questioningly at Dumbledore but received only an encouraging nod. He took a moment to compose himself and then started to talk, “Not many know of this but Sirius’ mother disowned him when he turned sixteen. This means that when she died the Head of the Family should have become his brother – Regulus.”

James paused and took a look at Sirius. His friend made no move to indicate a wish to take over the story so James continued, “But being a Head of the Black Family is more than just a formality or a title since they're one of the _Old Families_. The thing is that the magic in question is for the lack of a better word somewhat sentient, at least on a level not unlike that of a wand - _it chooses it's master_. Regulus lacks the will and strength to back him up which means that while he has title _de facto_ ; the power is… Well, the power _de jure_ goes to the next one in line who happens to be Bellatrix. Who happens to have been missing for past six years.”

Most of the Order members were not from Families that would be old enough to know where James had taken a bit of a creative license in his explanation. He knew that Dumbledore knew – and he and Lily and Remus and Peter knew, because Sirius had told them, but other than that it was Pureblood issue that was not advertised among those that were not already in-the-know.

Purebloods took a different look at Light and Dark magic than most and while classification ‘Dark’ was widely used – the oldest of the Families used it with quite a different meaning. Dark wasn’t synonymous with evil or illegal – it was more of a flavour of Magic. But rather than get entangled in the subtleties of Pureblood culture and inheritance rules – James generalized his description of the problem.

Dumbledore exploited the pause and took over the tale, “Last anybody saw or heard of her was at the Wizarding Opera House where Earl Winterbourne-Basset organized a graduation party for her.” Nothing in Dumbledore’s posture indicated as to what he thought of Cygnus’ audacity to throw _another_ graduation for _his_ alumni.

“I don’t understand,” cried a man from somewhere by the end of the table. “Why should we care? They’re all dark traitors anyway!”

“The Family hasn’t sided with anybody!” Sirius spat aggressively. Despite his obvious distaste of his parents and most of his family; he could not help but feel protective of its name if only on the behalf of his uncle.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said placatingly. “Young Regulus cannot sign a magically binding agreement until Lady Bellatrix either assumes or discards her inheritance and until that moment when the decision will be made by her on behalf of all those that claim protection and membership of House Black – Voldemort lacks the support of one of the most influential pureblood families.” _If not **the** most influential if the rumours about Isle of Avalon being in their possession are true._

Silence settled around the table as people pondered over the information they had been given.

“Severus, do you know where to find Miss Black?” Dumbledore asked.

“No, all I heard was that Lucius boasted that his fiancée had finally told him the alias her sister uses when in the Wizarding world.”

Sirius snarled at that piece of news and stood abruptly before exiting the room. James followed him seconds later.

BBRBW

**Barely a minute later in a hallway…**

“Where are you going, Sirius?” James called running to catch up with his friend.

“To pay a visit,” Sirius snarled again not stopping.

James wiped out his wand and stunned his friend in the back. Then he walked up to Sirius and cast a spell to make him float ahead until they were out of the reach of anti-apparition wards, then he Apparated them to Godric’s Hollow. He tied Sirius to a chair and took his wand before awakening him.

Sirius immediately began struggling against his bonds. He vented his anger against the ropes which did not give away before calming down. “I’m calm,” he said ten minutes later. “You can give me back my wand.”

“Not yet,” James said sitting down across from his friend. “At first you’re going to tell me what was this all about.”

“Prongs,” Sirius growled.

James frowned. “You actually gave credit to your name with that expression,” he said. “Now, talk or I’ll send Lily in on you to lecture about actions and consequences,” the tone of his voice was playful, but it was obvious that he meant every word.

“I wasn’t going to go to the Malfoys,” Sirius said impatiently.

“Where then?”

“To my uncle.”

“That wouldn’t have been very smart either,” James said. “Now, stop avoiding the question – what of it all got you so worked up?” there was genuine confusion in his tone. “You haven’t talked to your uncle for years and neither were you great friends with your cousin. You barely ever even talked to her or about her.”

Sirius sighed. “My uncle has never directly done anything that could indicate that he’s any different than my other bloodthirsty and bigoted relatives. But I could see it - that he isn’t the same as them – maybe because I’m not your typical Black either, maybe because he let me see, hell, I don't know, all I know is that sure as hell nobody else noticed,” he said.

James banished the ropes, but Sirius made no move to get away, he was resigned to the conversation.

“I didn’t understand it at the time but now when I think about it – he never said anything concrete about his views on most the conflicting issues other than he was with the family. Come to think of it, I’m not even sure he meant Black family as a whole because while I remember the adoration with which he looked at my aunt, he was always pretty distant to everyone else.

When I was fourteen, I _overheard_ my mother discussing the possibility of naming Bellatrix as her heir and the Head of the Family legally… Later that night when I was sneaking around the house to set a prank trap for Regulus I saw my uncle alone in the library – I had never before seen such _fear_ on someone’s face. I can tell you – he did not want that for Bellatrix,” he paused and ran his hands through his hair. “Not that he could have avoided it anyway if my suspicions are correct.”

James was listening intently – confusion visible on his face.

“I didn’t pay much attention – didn’t put all the pieces together until I heard that Bellatrix had disappeared,” Sirius paused again. “James,” he said intently looking up at his friend. “My mother did name Bellatrix as her heir,” he whispered. “And Bellatrix went missing within hours of her graduation.”

James leaned back into the couch. He swallowed. “You mean to tell me that she ran from Voldemort?” He shook his head. The story of the missing Lady Black was well known in all Wizarding World, but never anybody had thought that she hadn’t gone missing – that she had ran out of her own free will. “You think that she’s managed to hide from the Dark Lord for _years?_ All by herself?”

“It is the only explanation,” Sirius said his tone excited. “If she had joined him, we would have known, if she had joined him, she wouldn’t still be missing.”

“But… But remember her at school!” James exclaimed. “She gave new meaning to the term ‘ice-queen’. She was positively nasty and…”

“Precisely!” Sirius interrupted. “Nasty not evil, and you have to admit, some of the things we did - they were pretty nasty too.”

James had a thoughtful expression on his face. “Okay, let’s assume that your cousin indeed ran from Voldemort and that she isn’t all evil - that still doesn’t explain your reaction.”

Sirius’ expression darkened. “You know, I’ve always said that my family doesn’t matter to me?” he asked rhetorically. “I guess I lied.”

“Sirius…”

“You see ever since I realized that I might not be all alone. All alone as a Black, I mean… Ever since I have the hope that there are some sensible people in my family I…,” Sirius paused. “I feel like my family _is_ worth fighting for and I’m sorry not to be a part of it anymore. I was glad to be disowned because I thought that all of them were the same – all blood purists and inbred bigots and I wanted to be as far away as I could get, but ever since then little things keep coming back to me – like the ones I mentioned to you - and I can’t stop wondering if I let something more pass me unnoticed, if I abandoned them...”

“Sirius you had no other choice then, and it was your mother who disowned you.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly before changing the subject. “Well, anyway, now Snivellus waltzed in and told everyone that Death Eaters have a clue on how to get a hang of my cousin. And then that idiot insulted my family and it was honestly the first time I’ve felt insulted on the account of Blacks. And when Snivellus told that it was Narcissa – Bella’s own sister – who betrayed her confidence I just… I just snapped I guess. One thing too many,” he said.

“So, you wanted to go to your uncle to warn him?” James asked tentatively.

“Yeah.”

“And now let me get this straight – we have your cousin who is on the top of Voldemort’s _‘search’_ list and apparently doesn’t want to meet him very much and she holds the key to whether one of the most influential pureblood families in our country will join him or not,” James said. “Let’s not forget that we don’t know where she is and that she has been successfully and intentionally missing for six years and that it’s her own sister who set the _hounds_ on her. And you want to help her.”

A weak smile appeared on Sirius’ face, “Yes.”

“Well, it will most definitely take a Marauder to do a job like this,” James said decidedly.

BBRBW

**Almost another year later…**

Bella resisted the urge to quicken her pace. The sound of distant steps mirroring her own had alerted her of her followers ever since she had stepped out of Apothecary. The only one who could have passed on the word that she was there was the chemist himself. Well, she’ll make sure to pay him a personal visit later – she had never liked the slimy git anyway.

She took a sharp turn into a shadier street and suddenly felt warm – as if she was being targeted with a wand. Bella took a sudden step aside and turned around while drawing out her own wand and already casting a curse.

A spell missed her by an inch.

What followed was an intense display of magic and a heavy exchange of curses. She kept backing away thinking that with distance the aim of her attackers would be poorer and hoping to finally reach the Apparition platform that had been her target originally. The anti-apparition wards of Diagon-Alley while no gift from the gods were not something she could carelessly breakthrough in the middle of a battle for her life or… Bella conjured a solid shield of stone and took a step back – none of the spells aimed at her were lethal. Painful, unlawful, morally wrong et cetera but not lethal. _Damn._ They wanted her alive.

Bella made a slashing move with her wand. She had abandoned Wizarding world – for a time at least, but she had never stopped practicing her talents although half-dozen of opponents was a first for her. Which is why she wanted to reach the damn platform. Where was the bloody thing?

Suddenly there were loud cracks of Apparition just behind her. Saying ‘damn’ would be like saying nothing at all. She conjured another shield and with a curse on her lips turned to face the newcomers.

She came face to face with her cousin. He grabbed her wrist redirecting her curse at the last second while aiming another one over her head at her attackers with his own wand.

“Bellatrix…”

She didn’t give him a chance to speak. She kicked him in the gut with her knee, used her weight to turn them around and finally pushed him away from her, all in the matter of a couple of seconds. Bella had no sound reasoning, at the moment she was still working in the mode where she relied just on her instincts and she _knew_ she had no allies in the Wizarding world besides her father and sisters, and none were here.

She leaped on the Apparition platform and Apparated away.

Sirius jumped instantaneously after her trying to make a grab for his cousin and fell into crevice in the matter created by Bella’s Apparition. He unwittingly tagged along her.

He had to shield his eyes in the sudden light. It took him a few precious moments to realize where he was. He was on a roof of a tall building and the scenery reminded him of London.

“Bellatrix!” he called out. It was highly unlikely that she had stayed and was here to hear him, but he had to try. “Bellatrix!”

“What do you want?” her voice seemed to echo around him giving no clue as to where was the source of the sound. Sirius didn’t know that spell but supposed that it could have been useful for pranks when he was still at school.

“I need to talk to you,” he answered honestly.

BBRBW

**Fifteen minutes later in a small café…**

“Well,” she urged. “You have my attention,” she said leaning comfortably into the chair.

Sirius swallowed. Less than half-hour ago a spy of theirs had informed them about an attack on his cousin. Last quarter of an hour he had spent convincing said cousin – whom he didn’t know very well, to tell the truth – that she had to listen to him. And now he was sitting in a small, cosy restaurant with her and she had such an air of comfort around her in this Muggle place that was a bit disconcerting to him.

“I know why you left the Wizarding world,” he said finally.

“You _think_ , you do,” she responded with a smirk on her face.

Sirius frowned. “You don’t want to join Voldemort,” he stated.

Bella frowned. “Neither the Ministry nor Dumbledore and his fan club – whatever he calls it,” she said in flat tone.

“You’re a priestess of the Dark magic,” he whispered.

He was fully aware that he was pressing his luck, but on the other hand – she was a Black and he couldn’t talk to her like he talked to all the other people he came in contact with. They both were from an ancient Family and he was the disowned Light heir of a Dark Family while she was the Dark priestess and new heiress – it was a whole new level of conversation.

It was an effort not to let surprise show on her face. “And you are a Light wizard born into House of Black,” she replied with a similar truth. “Don’t think I don’t know your secrets too.”

“So, it _is_ true,” he had guessed. And correctly it seemed. Annoyance in her face made him swallow a smile. “But why haven’t you…” He frowned looking at her. “My mother can’t be powerful enough to keep you out of…” and then realization dawned just as Bellatrix said.

“No, not her,” her teeth clicked as she ground them together in anger. She was born to be priestess of the Dark magic and she was being kept from her birth right. “When Her Grace named me the heir after you ran off - she struck a deal with Voldemort. He laid a ward around Glastonbury that I cannot cross if I do not forfeit myself to him first. And as I cannot deny him until I can claim the power of that Isle…” she had been searching for a way for years.

“The Mark? But she must know…” Sirius sat utterly shocked.

Priests and priestesses of Dark or Light magic weren’t made. They were born. In the last generations there had been precious few. Dumbledore was one – for Light magic. There had been talks that Grindelwald had been one too. Also, for Light magic. Now there was Bellatrix for the Dark. It had been long time since there had been any kind of balance, but at least there was some order.

The priesthood was not any kind of official position in sense of Ministry for Magic. It was a position that dealt entirely with nature of magic. A relic from times before the Old Ways. Priests and priestesses were wizards and witches that had a stamp on their soul that needed blessing from waters surrounding Isle of Avalon to claim the connection and power – without it… It sought any connection strong enough.

 _Like Voldemort… Merlin, no wonder she ran._ Sirius shivered.

“That such a bind before I pledge myself to Magic at the Isle would subjugate me to Voldemort without any recourse?” Bellatrix asked sharply. “Yes, she most certainly knows that. Her timing, after all, was impeccable in all the arrangements.”

“It makes what I wanted to say all the more of an ask,” Sirius sighed.

“What is it that you want from me?” she asked. Her gaze speculative.

“Narcissa betrayed you,” he told her avoiding the question. He contemplated whether he even wanted to make the offer now that he was certain of the truth.

Anger and suspicion briefly flared in her dark eyes giving her face an expression of carefully controlled fury. “Why should I believe you?”

“Who else could have?” Sirius replied. “Andromeda spends her days in St. Mungo’s while Narcissa has been engaged to be married to Lucius Malfoy for almost two years now and I bet you know what he is just as well as I do.”

Bella was silent for a while before slowly nodding. “I understand what you are trying to tell me with all of this. What I want to know is – why are you bothering?”

“I’m offended,” he said with a smile. “Can’t I simply give a warning to my favourite cousin?” he settled more comfortably in his chair trying to regain some of his earlier carelessness.

She stared hard at him.

“Fine,” he said sitting up straighter. “For the War to end the Wizarding World needs the Black Family to side. It needs _you_ to choose a side,” Sirius said earnestly.

“I will not submit to anyone,” Bella said firmly. She had come too far and sacrificed too much to ever think of taking the easy way.

“We figured that,” he said. There was a small smile on his face. “But would you agree to cooperate? Even without the priesthood you are the Heir, you have the power of the House if not the one that you are owed.”

“I might think about it.”

“And I swear we…” he pushed a hand through his shoulder length hair nervously. “I know what kind of an ask it is with… But I swear…”

“I said I might think about it. Don’t overstrain yourself with promises you might not be able to keep,” Bellatrix interrupted. Sirius had guessed more that she had wanted to reveal, and she had answered, but that did not mean she was asking for his help.

“We have an offer for you then,” he continued with a grin and without missing a beat.

Bella regarded him cautiously before her lips curled into challenging smile. “I’m listening.”

“When the time comes - your choosing of allies,” he chose the wording carefully, “it would have to be convincing and public. And the best way to make it public would be for you to be a public figure. More public than just a missing-for-years pure-blood maiden,” he added. “Say, cousin-dear, how would you like to be the Minister for Magic?”

“Being a marionette Minister so that I could clear the paperwork for Dumbledore and his illegal fight-club against Voldemort has never been high on my list of probable career paths,” she responded swiftly and harshly.

“It’s not like that!” Sirius protested. “When the current Minister will be brought down our world will need someone strong. Someone on the side - against Voldemort. You being _de jure_ Head of the Black Family will only help to sway the public opinion in our favour as well as divide Voldemort’s ranks because if he was to be refused by a Family like yours…” he stopped to draw a breath.

“Bellatrix, of course, we would like for you to look through your fingers on couple of things if we help you to become a Minister, but no one will order you or give you directions on how to proceed. Your decisions as a Minister would be yours and only yours to make, I swear,” he said passionately. “Consider this,” he pleaded.

“Well, we’ll see that,” she said simply. Walburga Black – Her Grace, Duchess of Glastonbury - had the power to keep Bellatrix from the Glastonbury lands, but Walburga held the title and lands as a courtesy through her marriage. She was not Head of House. It would, of course, be unusual to claim the Lordship of the House before the lands and before the priesthood, but… _Desperate times, desperate measures._

“So, you’re agreeing?”

“I’m considering,” Bella replied standing up from the chair. She was about to turn to leave when she turned sharply back to Sirius and said, “It still is your family as well whether my aunt disowned you or not. Consider that.” And then suddenly she felt a need to look up and for a second, she froze where she stood, because for that single moment she could have sworn that she saw Bruce standing just outside the windows.

BBRBW

**At about the same time…**

He was cold. He was so damn cold. But he kept going. It wasn’t really a hidden fire inside him that kept him going – it was something more like the concept of one leg in front of the other and so on for eternity. Mind over matter, so to speak.

He hadn’t forgotten what he had been looking for in the first place. He could never forget. He also felt no need for a path or companionship. He didn’t feel content not ever however he was well where he was. But at the same time Bruce did want to achieve something. That part of Ducard's speech had truly spoken to him. So it was his own wish to achieve something and to prove himself to himself that drove him up this bloody mountain and nothing else.

The winds were harsh, and the climb was draining. His frozen fingers slipped on the rocks and ice alike and he found it less tiresome if he spared no thought to the movement of his legs.

The path he was on now steadily became steeper and rockier while remaining barely walkable. He was thankful for that because he didn’t think he could haul himself up another cliff today. He wrapped himself in his thin jacket which really was of little use against the mountain winds and continued his journey.

He was freezing and tired. He walked as if in daze paying little attention to the surroundings or the path beneath him. His main goal was to keep on moving. Suddenly he stopped.

A few feet from him stood a painfully familiar figure. It had been years, yet he’d recognize her anywhere and anytime. She stood with her side to him, few moments later she turned and with a soft smile on her face, she walked towards him and he was willing to make himself believe that she looked at him and not in the distance. Her image vanished within a step of him in a breath of wind. A mirage – nothing more.

He shook his head but couldn’t shake off the disappointment. He had let his mind wander too far if he was starting to see her. He took a deep breath and continued on the path.

BBRBW

**About nineteen months later…**

Bella smiled indulgently at the cheering crowd before her and waved lightly. It had been one beautiful year until it was time to ‘take it or leave it’ – and she took it. After her years in exile from the magical society she took them all in stride and became the second youngest Minister for Magic ever and the most popular Wizarding person in record time.

Well, not the most popular with her aunt, but despite Bellatrix’s continued indifference to Walburga’s suggestions – Her Grace didn’t dare move against Bellatrix.

Bellatrix accepted the congratulations from the people and waited for Dumbledore who was acting as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot to finish his speech so that she could give one of her own.

She hadn’t made the decision lightly. And she had placed a condition – that she would be free to pass the job to her cousin as soon as the war ended. Bella would see the society of her birth through this conflict – she would lead them and protect those who needed her protection but that was it. She had stated firmly that she will write a resignation as soon as Voldemort is dead.

She didn’t want anything to do with the reconstruction and even less she desired to be a permanent fixture in the Wizarding politics. Bella knew the wizards better than they would have thought. The war about blood purity might come to an end, but soon a new conflict would arise – there always will be something to fight over. Bella wanted her life for herself – she refused to sacrifice her life in exchange for a fickle position in Wizarding politics.

Her station in the Wizarding world was guaranteed as a birth right and her position in Muggle world was high and influential because of her wealth – she could live easily in either society. She meant something in both worlds.

She had a part to play in the war because of said birth right and she had finally chosen the terms on which to participate, however there was nothing that could stop her from leaving once it was over.

Why should she be the immovable object against the overwhelming force that is Wizarding politics? Let her idealist of a cousin and his friends waste their lives in the never-ending struggle.

To tell the truth – Bella was strongly convinced that the Wizarding society was in a bad need of a dictator however the only one who offered to do the job was Voldemort and well, they were better off without him. Bella herself didn’t think that the guiding of sheep was a job for her – she had never considered being a shepherd and wasn’t about to begin.

 _‘Just few years, until the end of the war…,’_ she thought stepping forward to make her speech now that Dumbledore was finished. _‘Because I no longer care for what Voldemort has to offer. I have a story of my own.’_

BBRBW

**26 weeks later...**

Bellatrix sat in a sinfully comfortable armchair that was on a raised platform with several other armchairs - a spot reserved for the family of the bride - near the end of the reception hall. From her raised seat she could easily oversee the whole room. She sipped champagne and enjoyed the happiness on her sister's face.

She watched as their father kissed Andromeda's forehead and shook Ted's hand giving the couple his blessings. She was glad to see Sirius and the friends he'd taken as his invitees freely offer their congratulations to Andromeda.

No significant event in a life of a Black can be anything less than the public event of the season, if not the decade. Andromeda's wedding was the event that the fine and less fine wizards and witches of Great Britain would talk about for years and not only because a pure-blood Lady dared to marry a common Muggle-born. _Or because the wedding is barely three months after the funeral of Her Grace Walburga Black._

Being the Head of the Family Bellatrix had done her best to advice with the wedding preparations so she was proud to say that she had had some part in the organization of the magnificent celebration, though to be honest most of the honors belonged to their father. Lord Black had spared nothing for his youngest.

Bellatrix felt a shadow come over her joyful spirits and absentmindedly she supposed that in a different world on today she might be mourning a sister instead of welcoming a brother. She frowned at the stray thought and banished it immediately - there was no sense in thinking about could-have-been's. And then she saw Narcissa enter the hall. She hadn't seen Lady Malfoy during the ceremony. Bella frowned already realizing who had ruined her pleasant disposition.

Narcissa elegantly stole a crystal glass of champagne off a silver tray carried by a valet and ignoring Andromeda and her father, marched straight up to Bellatrix and gracefully plopped down in the armchair beside her sister's. "I can't believe you let this happen," Narcissa sniffed daintily over the rim of her glass of champagne.

"I know," Bellatrix agreed mournfully. "I told Andromeda that chocolate is not the right flavour for a wedding cake, but she just wouldn't listen," she complained exaggeratedly. "What was I going to do? Disown her?" Bella asked, her pleasant tone turning confrontational.

"That wouldn't have been necessary," Narcissa replied carelessly. "Aunt entrusted you with the Family, I do not believe that in her most terrible nightmares she imagined you allowing this union. It's enough that you welcomed the blood-traitor back into the Family before she was even cold in the grave," Narcissa looked disdainfully over at Sirius where he and his group of friends were chatting noisily with Ted.

"I let you marry who you want," Bella remarked coldly.

"I married Lord Malfoy! He's a respectable pure-blood heir!" Narcissa replied indignantly.

Bellatrix's expression was remarkably unimpressed. "Yes, his lineage and the size of his Gringott's vault are undoubtedly his only _assets_ ," she carefully accented the last word as to leave no doubt to her meaning.

Narcissa frowned at the crudeness. "Well, what assets are in Mr. Tonks' possession then that makes him so welcome a member of our Family?" she asked snobbishly.

Bellatrix sipped her champagne. "He has Andromeda's affection and if that isn't enough - I believe he will never betray her trust."

"You believe?" Narcissa snorted leaning back in the chair. "Your years among the masses have certainly damaged your senses."

Bellatrix was silent for a moment. "Funny, I was about to say a similar thing about you."

"What do you mean?" Narcissa frowned.

Bella let the pause that settled between them stretch a bit. "Ted knew for years the truth about me and he's yet to breathe a word of it outside of Family. He can keep a secret and guard the trust placed in him and that is not a quality that all in present company can boast with," Bella said looking straight at her sister. She had never accused Narcissa to her face about her betrayal, but this felt like the right moment to remind Lady Malfoy that she knew and that she had not forgotten. “Am I not right, _Cissy?”_

"What are you implying, exactly?" Narcissa demanded with a hiss, grasping her glass till her knuckles turned white.

"If you gather the implication, then you know exactly what I mean," Bellatrix replied calmly.

"You dare insult me? Me? You who should be proud of me!" Narcissa was outraged. "I did what I was supposed to! I married right, I, who in time will bear a child of lineage, I am what every pure-blood witch should be! I should be made as an example in our Family, yet you treat me like you think I am a ..."

"Stop it!" Bellatrix interrupted her, unwilling to listen to a tirade. "You married the man you thought would give you an easy and luxurious life. You are who you want to be and as for the Family, you're Lady Malfoy now, sister, so concern yourself with the Malfoys."

"Exactly. I'm a Lady, my husband is a Lord. And who is the wizard our little sister is marrying? A Mudblood!" Narcissa spat. Anger was unbecoming in her pale, regal face.

Bella frowned. "Mother and father taught you better than to use such distasteful words in polite company."

"Lately I seem to find that a lot of what Mother and Father taught us aren’t in our best interests," Narcissa replied coldly.

"You mean the interests of your husband and those in his company," Bellatrix corrected.

"As a good wife, my husband's interests are mine," Narcissa stated proudly with her head held high.

Bella resisted the urge to snort. "You always were a good little follower."

"Maybe," Narcissa said spitefully, "however I have a man worth following. What will Andromeda have? She's married to a man with no name, no lineage and no prospects."

Bella looked hard at her sister. If she were a more conscientious person she'd take the blame for her sister's ignorance and idiocy upon herself, because of her long absence during her sister's formative years, but Bellatrix was more practical than moral, besides Andromeda's life was also robbed of role models and she turned out alright.

"Andromeda is a Black. That does not change with her marriage. Her husband is welcome in my Family as will be any offspring of theirs."

"A Mudblood! In our family!" Narcissa exclaimed. "An invasion of filthy half-bloods! What will be next? You will marry a Muggle, perhaps?" she sneered.

"Narcissa, contain yourself. There is only so much I can credit to your prolonged need for teenage rebellion. You may be Lady Malfoy now, but I can still make your life rather difficult if I choose to," though Bella spoke calmly and still managed to smile at those that caught her eye in the crowd, however there was no mistaking the threat in her tone.

Narcissa gritted her teeth. She looked around; they already seemed to have gathered attention. Their father was watching them like a hawk and Narcissa suddenly felt uncomfortable. Having no wish to see this incident on the front page of the evening's paper, Lady Malfoy decided to cut her losses and stood saying, "I can see that I'm not a particularly welcome guest here. I will take my leave, but mark my words, sister, this conversation is not over."

Bellatrix was completely unintimidated, "Since it seems to have escaped your notice - the young couple has already been wed. Any matter that there may have been is long past discussion. Learn to live with it or you may find yourself unwelcome at many gatherings."

Narcissa glared at her eldest sister but feeling already too much at the centre of attention she decided to pass on continuing the discussion. She spun on her heel and left with as much grace as possible once again completely ignoring both Andromeda and her father.

BBRBW

**Almost two years later…**

Bella had long since discovered television and now - after a long and hard day at the Ministry - she was at her spacious apartment in London and resting in an expensive leather couch in front of it. She turned on the news channel and nearly dropped the remote. It was all over the international news channel – Bruce Wayne who had mysteriously disappeared seven years ago was back.

This time she couldn’t book the first flight to Gotham City. Apparating on the doorstep of the Wayne Manor didn’t seem like a good idea either even if she could pull it off magically. It had been years and life was complicated once again, but she wasn’t quite ready to give up on Bruce either.

Years as the owner of a company as huge as Rosier Limited and Minister for Magic had made her more level-headed. While she still felt a faint wish to do something as irrational and imprudent as jumping on the first plane, she knew better. This time she would take another path – slower but safer and probably more profitable in the long run. Not to mention that this way maybe she won’t scare the living daylights out of the only friend she’d ever had. _Maybe._

She made a mental note to look again into the collaboration project with Wayne Enterprises.

BBRBW

**Few days later…**

Bella offered a patient smile to the director of Wayne Enterprises. She hadn’t been surprised to find out that Bruce did not run his company on his own. Aside from the obvious fact that he had been gone for seven years, he had never seemed to be overly eager to sit at the proverbial wheel and turn and turn and turn it around.

She also hadn’t been surprised by the man that was running the company. He was a bit sleazy, sneaky, too smooth to be trusted, quite vain and with a good eye for profit. Not the best combination around, but she had dealt with worse. Being a Minister for Magic during wartime had taught her patience like nothing else and in between constant smiling, atrocious tea, exercise of good will and sumptuous meal – Bellatrix was in a rather good mood.

“But we would be glad to discuss a possible collaboration plan as soon as Wayne Enterprises is finally public,” Earle added at the end of his rather long-winded apology. He wanted to make sure that there was no misunderstanding – cooperating with European giant such as Rosier Ltd. was very much desired although a bit ill timed.

“That is very unfortunate,” she said truthfully glancing out the window behind Mr. Earle. “I’m afraid I will be very busy in the near future, but I’m sure if you will contact Mr. Burke you may find some common ground.” She smiled easily and made a move to rise. “Now if that’s all I believe I have a plane to catch.”

To be honest, Bella had Apparated – she had far too little time to spend it on a flight over the Atlantic. As British Minister for Magic it was easy for her to get her hands on a pass that would let her through the magical border of America without fuss.

Director Earle rose as well. “Perhaps if you have some time to spare… I’d like to extend an invitation to a ball. I apologize for the small notice, but it is Mr. Wayne’s birthday and the rumour is - it’s going to be the event of the season.”

She paused to think it over. She had _some_ time to spare _and_ this was a wonderful opportunity. Sometimes everything was too easy. “I’d be honoured.” She was pleased.

BBRBW

**The very same evening at the Wayne Manor…**

She arrived fashionably late, but obviously early enough – Bruce wasn’t here yet. She made her way into the wide halls that were decorated for the occasion and made no effort to blend in the crowd. She was a new face among the rich and powerful of Gotham and she stood out among them as was expected.

The gown she wore was luxurious even if _not_ custom sewn for her from the best designers any world could offer and even when these people knew nothing of her – she still derived from them. Her absolute confidence in herself shoved in her every movement. Arrogance was becoming on her and she wore it like a prized piece of jewellery.

“Miss Rosier, I am glad to see you here,” Mr. Earle greeted her.

“This is magnificent party,” Bella lied lightly. All grand feasts for the rich and powerful of any society are somewhat similar on the main points. The Wizarding society though hadn’t had a reason for grand parties ever since the war had started and Bellatrix appreciated the reprieve however she failed to find something unique or fascinating in the occasion, especially since Bruce had yet to arrive.

“Indeed, it is,” Mr. Earle agreed. “I’d like to introduce you to some friends of mine…”

Mr. Earle was interrupted by arrival of Alfred who announced that Mr. Wayne was on his way. Bella used the moment to move away from the Director and closer to the refreshment tables. She snatched a glass of champagne from a waiter when everyone started singing ‘Happy Birthday’.

There were too many people around her and she didn’t see him as he made his way in the hall. She took a sip of her champagne and frowned. She disliked the feeling of agitation in her chest; it made room for mistakes and doubt. Bellatrix never doubted herself and she rarely admitted making mistakes.

“Lucius Fox,” the man next to her introduced himself.

“Bellatrix Rosier,” she replied in kind. In Muggle world she had taken her mother’s maiden name as her own. It was as much an effort to conceal her identity as a unifying bond with the company her father had gifted her with. It was a symbol of another life entirely.

This wasn’t a mistake. She took a deep, calming breath. This was chasing after a friend and friends are worth it to be chased after. Bellatrix knew she often walked a fine line between recognizing when emotionality was a liability and the inability to feel at all. In her years as the Minister she had watched the Order and her cousin and his friends – she had learned that friends were worth _a lot_. Because of a magical accident – a fluke, she had practically grown up with Bruce – there was close to no one who knew about her as much as he did and none with whom she was used to speaking completely frankly. Besides Bella was practical – why make a new friend if she already had one?

She quickly excused herself when she saw Bruce coming her way. She made a move to smooth her gown while in truth she subtly cast a mild Notice-Me-Not charm on herself. She intended to listen in on few conversations and make her presence known in a bit more private place. No need for a scandal or unnecessary heart-attacks.

Bellatrix sipped her champagne and unobtrusively listened in on Bruce’s conversation with Mr. Fox and a moment later with the Ra’s Al Ghul – both of them. It was quite enlightening to say the least. She frowned and pulled her wand from her jewelled purse. It seemed that nothing was going to be as easy as it had appeared at first. She finished her champagne and while Bruce made his speech, she moved towards the stairs so that she would be out of the exiting crowd’s way.

She cast a disillusionment charm on herself and stood by the stairs as the offended guests made their way out of the manor. She was a surprise element in this battle that neither side knew about, but before she could act, she needed more information. Bellatrix waited until one of the ‘enemy’ men moved further into manor and followed him.

BBRBW

The man passed a few doors before walking into a spacious room and casually throwing a pinch of exploding powder on the expensive carpet. Bellatrix followed the man, the clicks of her heels against the floor - silenced by a charm. She peered in the sitting room appraising the layout of the room before acting swiftly.

She stunned the Muggle, stepped in the room, closed the door behind herself, locked it, set up a silencing spell on the room and used the everlasting glue spell to glue the Muggle to the most convenient wall. Then she awakened the Muggle.

"Wha..."

"The disorientation will pass in a minute," she instructed kindly. "And perhaps without pain so will your life if you prove to be helpful."

The man's face contorted in an ugly expression - the mix of hate and a misplaced sense of superiority. He didn't say a thing.

"You might think your friends will help you, but they will not hear you even when I do this," Bella helpfully explained before using a Blasting hex to smash the man's kneecap to illustrate her point.

The Muggle screamed. His face turned red from pain and anger. "I'll kill you, bitch," he managed to curse at her.

"Apt description, not entirely correct statement," Bella replied looking rather bored. " _I_ will kill _you,”_ she corrected.

"I don't know what kind of gun it is that you have there, woman..."

Bella nearly snorted. "And you will never know," she replied while the Muggle tried to contain his painful gasps to speak further.

"It won't save you from Ra's Al Ghul!" he managed to say.

"Which brings me back to business," Bella said. "What are your intentions exactly? What are you doing here?"

"I'm not... telling you..."

She blasted his other kneecap, not in the mood to listen to irrelevant babbling.

"You bitch!" he howled in agony.

“Incorrect,” she stated. Tiring of the dialogue she next pointed her wand at his crotch.

She disliked being this crude, but she needed results _fast_. "Will you talk or do I ..." She didn't get to finish - the man started to talk labouring under the misconception that he would live to enjoy the undamaged parts of his body. He told her everything and then she killed him swiftly, because he was a threat to Bruce. Then she went to find Bruce.

BBRBW

The building was burning. The house that had been as much part of her childhood as her own manor was burning down to the ground and there was nothing that she could do, that wouldn't create more problems than there already were. Somehow doing nothing was the hard decision this time.

With her wand and folds of her dress in her hands, she determinedly walked down the burning corridors looking for Bruce. She absolutely refused to Apparate out before she knew that he was safe. She frowned realizing that if this manor had been properly warded then nothing such as this would have happened. Unfortunately, the matter had not crossed her mind before now.

If there had been wards no Muggle would have been able to set fire to her home, and, yes, after practically living here for eleven consecutive years since she was seven years old - she did consider this manor as much her house as Bruce's.

The smoke tickled her throat, she coughed and for the first time felt anxiety rise along with the rush of adrenaline. "Bruce!" she called out. She could leave at any time, he could not. "Bruce!" she yelled and coughed, "Damn it."

BBRBW

Bruce was warm. He felt hot, but not hot enough for it to wake him completely. He thought he heard a voice he'd long since given up on hearing ever again. He thought he heard it calling his name. He didn't want to open his eyes to whatever always waited for him on the other side of this wonderfully deceitful fantasy.

Confused and stuck somewhere between dream and reality, he was woken rather rudely by Alfred trying and failing to lift a piece of the wall off him. He stared dazed and distracted by the bright fire for a minute, before reacting to Alfred's encouragements and gathering his strength to push the better part of an archway colon off himself.

Alfred helped him stand up and to stay up. Staggering they made their way to the secret door in his favourite second floor sitting room, since it was the only safe exit left for them. Bruce played the three keys that opened the bookcase, but before leaving he suddenly thought of something and whirled around, almost falling to ground, and quickly grabbed a purple velvet covered box off the top of the piano before following Alfred through the door.

Of all his prized possessions that he wanted to save that was one thing that he could save. The box held his mother's pearl necklace. The very same necklace she had been wearing the night she died. Joe Chill had torn it off her neck, but the police had gathered everything from the scene including every pearl for evidence and in time, they had all been given back to Bruce. He had had the necklace pieced back together years ago and usually it stood on the table beside his father's stethoscope. Just today, he'd accidentally placed it on the piano. Just today, he could save it.

He collapsed on the floor of the elevator and Alfred pulled the lever. As they drove down, the fire blazed above their heads and the small velvet box in his breast pocket felt like too little too late.

BBRBW

"Br...," she stopped herself as she saw him limping with Alfred towards an open bookcase. Satisfied that he was alive for the moment and about to be safe, she cast a charm to keep the fire from exploding until he was out of the collision path and Apparated with as much theatrical noise as possible to add to the drama of the whole scene.

Largely unfamiliar with the layout of the caves beneath the manor, just aware that they were there, she Apparated to the garden. As she had been paying more attention to theatrics and Bruce - as she materialized, she stepped on a stone ornament and overbalanced breaking the stiletto heel of her shoe and ungracefully falling on her ass.

She cursed and looked up just as the roof of the manor collapsed onto the second floor and the second floor fell in on the first. Bellatrix closed her eyes for a moment feeling as if she had inhaled saltwater. Tears burned in her nose and throat. Then she did what she always did best - she gathered herself together, fixed her shoe, and set about figuring a way to get down to the caves. And Bruce.

BBRBW

She waited until Alfred went away before cancelling the charms, she had placed upon herself. She stood quietly watching him as he dressed, as he readied for battle. She had never thought of Bruce as a warrior. Oddly enough – it suited him. She watched him – she’d known him as a boy, but now he was a man. She wondered if there was anything left of the boy.

“Alfred?” Bruce questioned pausing in his movement. He felt he wasn’t alone. He felt… something he hadn’t in a long time. _Can’t be._

Bella took a deep breath. “I suppose this is where I say, _‘I’ve seen this coming all along’_ , but the truth is – I haven’t.”

Bruce turned around so quickly she barely noticed the movement. He gazed at her with wide eyes full of surprise, joy, and a hint of suspicion. “Bella?”

She ignored his question and moved a few steps closer to him, careful not to slip on the rocks. High-heeled shoes were not made for this kind of terrain. “I really thought you had a better taste,” Bellatrix mournfully announced choosing a flat piece of rock to stand on. “Black is so tacky.”

He smiled at her comment, his expression relaxing. “It makes me look thinner,” he replied cheekily. He opened his mouth to say something more but found himself at loss _what_ to say. He had never expected to see her again, but with Bella, he supposed he should have known not to expect anything. He was overjoyed and scared at the same time; Gotham nearly forgotten. _Eleven years_ since he'd seen her last.

“I hope you’re not going into a psychotic breakdown,” Bella said when the silence stretched. “It would be such a shame, especially after all I had to do to get down here.”

Her words rang like a bell in his head reminding him what he'd nearly willingly forgotten. “Gotham!” he cried suddenly. “Bellatrix, I have to go,” he said quietly but with resigned certainty.

“I know,” she said. She did know – the man she had interrogated told her everything about the plan to destroy Gotham. She walked up to him and looked him over. She frowned at the bleeding wound in his side. She took out her wand and touched the injury with it while thinking of the spell. “It’s emergency field magic. It will be no good in a couple of hours,” she explained. "It'll hold the wound together for now though, but you'll start bleeding again later so the ER probably won’t ask any weird questions when you will finally get there."

He had said the words - _Gotham!_ -, but couldn’t find it in himself to move. He greedily watched her every movement as she approached him. He was surprised to feel the pain lessen and then disappear altogether from his side. He had so many questions to ask her – whether she’d stay? whether this was real? why now? “It’s amazing,” he muttered feeling his side. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

Bella had never been an empathetic person, but even she could see the questions burning in his gaze. Questions he obviously couldn’t voice. His gaze was fixed on her and despite the urgency of the situation he didn’t make a single move.

“I will be here,” she promised.

Bruce didn’t move. He searched her face for any sign of kind lies, insincerity or deceit. Moments later he nodded and proceeded in his preparations. He still had a city to save. And after that – a new day would come and for the first time in a long time he found himself looking forward to it.

BBRBW

**The next day…**

All that was left of the grand Wayne manor which had housed nine generations of the family were smoky ruins. The pile of ruined marble and granite on the green hilltop symbolized that last night had not been only one of victory but also of loss.

Bruce felt unexpectedly sad when he finally saw the full amount of destruction. He hadn’t felt entirely comfortable in the house ever since his parents’ death – it had been the manor which housed Wayne _family_ , he was just one person and ill-suited to fill up a space for a whole family. However now he saw the manor for what it had been – not only a heritage to which he was the only successor, but an asylum for memories, _a home_.

He got out of the car and stood still for a moment. He breathed in the smell of burn that still lingered in the air and lowered his gaze. A feeling of reverence washed over him; it was like he wasn’t just standing by the wreckage that had been his house – it felt as if he was standing by a monument. A monument of change and sacrifice. A monument to his choice to become the Batman.

He felt Alfred stand beside him. Alfred had taken care of Wayne family and him, especially, ever since Bruce could remember. It had been Alfred’s house as much as his own. Bruce felt as if he had let the elder man down. Needing to distance himself, he moved further among the debris.

He walked through what once had been the entrance hall and the remains of the grand staircase, he moved towards what was left of the furthest outer wall. The devastation was disheartening. He came to the beginning of the stairs that led down the hill towards the greenhouses and garden and stopped.

“Right there. Two stories up.”

Bruce turned around quickly and saw Bella perched on a large chunk of the wall and pointing east. She glanced upwards before fixing her gaze upon him.

“There was a gallery with large windows that had the most beautiful view of the manor grounds,” she explained. “I liked it.”

All he could give her was a sad smile. “I missed you,” he said a moment later. His voice was quiet and tired. Suddenly he felt drained. The intensity of the past few days weighed heavily on him – there had been no time to think through anything – just to react and he didn’t have the faith in himself required for peace of mind now that everything was done.

Bella watched him. She saw him transforming from a strong and determined man to an unsure and burdened one. She felt oddly privileged by the obvious display of trust. She had always preferred actions to express her opinion rather than vocal reassurances, but it seemed that he needed both and she… Well, she couldn’t refuse him. “I still like you,” Bella offered with a small and serious smile.

He chuckled. Bruce wanted to know but couldn’t ask. Last night she’d told him that she would be here – and here she was, but for how long? He had liked to think that he was no longer a coward but there were answers he’d rather not hear. He also didn’t ask _why now?_ , because he was just glad that it was now rather than never. Bruce supposed that his unquestioning welcome of her could be seen as pathetic, but this was Bellatrix and this was him. It was not a usual situation and they were not usual friends. If she truly was just a figment of his imagination he was still as glad as ever to see her again.

“It feels like a trade – a ruin for ruin,” he admitted finally.

She jumped off the rock and walked over. “They can’t take anything you won’t give,” Bella said her voice strong and unyielding.

Her gaze was burning against his. Bruce saw nothing but conviction in her eyes – she was so sure of herself and him and everything that he … - he felt carried away by the force of it. “How can you be so sure?”

“Been there done that,” she replied with a light grin.

He frowned and couldn't help but feel worried. “What do you mean?”

“Trust me,” Bella asked. She took his hand and pulled him with her down the hill, away from the wreckage. Her steps were unhurried but determined, he came along willingly.

He stared at their hands for a moment. It was not the action that surprised him, but the fact. She was solid, warm, _there_. She seemed as real as the next person, as real as she had never really felt before. Even on that last night eleven years ago there had been this dreamy quality around her and now she seemed as fixed in this time and place as the ruins, as the trees growing in the park on the north side of the manor as the graveyard with the gravestones of his parents on the west side, as the blades of grass his every next step pressed back to ground. “Bellatrix…”

“I’m here,” she said simply and came to stop. She turned around and pointed in the distance prompting him to stop and turn as well. “What do you see?” she asked.

He glanced at her his eyes hard. He did not want to go through this now. He had thought she understood.

“Tell me,” she urged.

Bruce looked at the distant hill and his gaze softened. “Failure. Disappointment. Loss,” he breathed out the words.

“An opportunity,” Bella countered. “A new start.”

“It’ll take time,” he said. It would take time to get used to the idea. It would take time to rebuild.

She smiled lightly. She’d like to tell him that he had all the time in the world, but truth was that he didn’t. “I think you’ll be just fine,” she assured.

He turned towards her and took both of her hands in his. He brushed his fingers along her skin revelling in the softness beneath his fingertips. Bruce was carried away by his feelings, by the moment, by her encouragement and assurances. He had always longed after her even when he had no reason to hope to ever see her again. Now he was basking in joy at having her at his side again. If she was a manifestation of his insanity; he’d succumb to it gladly.

He was amazed at how easy it was to confide in her even after eleven years. He was taken aback at how easy she fit back into his life as chaotic as it was. He didn't think about it, he just acted. He let his fingers play with a stray curl of her hair before suddenly moving to cradle her scalp, tangling all his fingers in her hair, destroying her hairdo and drawing her in for a kiss that was a tad too desperate to be sweet.

Surprised, a bit, but unwilling to admit it, Bella grasped his shirt and pulled him closer, kissing him as if it was a battle for control. This was madness. A turn of events that she was largely unprepared for yet his lips felt so good against hers that it was enough to express her annoyance at her thwarted plans by nipping hard at his bottom lip before kissing it better.

The moment and the breath-stealing kiss were destroyed by a large, sudden noise that sounded an awful lot like an Apparition.

It only took her seconds to move away from Bruce, in front of him, and point her wand at the origin of the noise and cast a spell. Her curse bounced off a hastily cast shield. “Sirius?” she asked incredulously once recognizing the visitor.

Sirius raised his hands in a non-threatening manner. “Easy, honey,” he said grinning. “It’s me.”

“Prove it,” Bellatrix spat.

“Well why else would I’ve come barging in like a herd of elephants? Certainly not to sneak on you; that would be a terrible strategy considering your reaction,” he replied. “Besides how could I find you if I was not me? Not to mention that this is _smooth_ , love. It took a great deal of me to get here; we must be pretty far away from home.”

“Toss me your wand,” she demanded.

“Is this really necessary?” Sirius asked in a tired tone.

Bella arched her eyebrows and made a gesture with her wand that Bruce did not understand, but the other man obviously did, because he hastily tossed the required item. Bruce wasn’t sure what was happening, but he didn’t dare interrupt the impasse with a question so he just stood by Bella’s side hoping to be able to offer protection should she need it.

“That’s mean, Trixie. Real mean,” he said.

Bellatrix ignored the nickname and trained the other wand at Sirius as well. “How did you find me?” she asked her tone cold and indifferent.

Sirius winced at the tone. “It’s the Oath we made,” he replied referencing the ritual that had reinstated him in Black family.

Bellatrix frowned. “You used Blood Magic?” it was obvious she was reluctant to believe that.

“Yes! Yes. Yes, me,” he rattled. “We needed to find you quickly and it was the only way I could think of. Nobody else knows.”

“You do know that I can call you on it if you’re bluffing?”

“I was only disowned not dis-brain-ed,” Sirius replied annoyance visible on his features, although for all his frustration with the situation, he still did not lower his raised hands.

Bellatrix cut a line across her wrist with Sirius’ wand and muttered the spell.

“Bellatrix!” Bruce couldn’t stay silent.

“It’s alright,” she assured him and a moment later the wound sealed shut without leaving a scar and not a drop of blood had been spilled. “Sirius,” she acknowledged her cousin and tossed him back his wand and lowered her own. “What in the name of Merlin did you need me for so desperately?”

Sirius was hesitant to reply in the presence of the other man, but Bellatrix obviously trusted him and if she had wanted him gone - she would have said so and as she hadn’t so it was unlikely that Sirius could do anything about it. He winced and began his explanation, “Voldemort broke into the Ministry tonight. He went to the DoM; we think he was looking for a prophecy.”

“What prophecy?” her tone was cold again.

“It’s Order business. You denied membership – I can’t tell you,” Sirius said his expression apologetic.

She disliked having things kept from her. The Ministry was her domain. Her domain was attacked, because somebody kept something from her. Bellatrix was furious. “What happened?” she snarled. Her fingers were itching.

Sirius resisted the urge to twitch. Bellatrix had reinstated him in the Black Family, but there was nothing that could give him back the title of the Lord of the Family – the annexes that came with the title had long ago gone to Bellatrix and there was no shame in admitting that she was a very scary Lady when she chose to be. She was also a good friend to have on a rainy day. “All on-duty Unspeakables and a couple of Aurors were killed. The Atrium is completely destroyed, the elevator and level nine are badly damaged,” he said. “There’s no way we can cover it up.”

“We’re not going to,” Bella replied coldly.

“The Ministry was considered impenetrable, invulnerable – the safest place besides Hogwarts and Azkaban. People are going to panic.”

“No, they won’t,” she said confidently. “Because there won’t be any time to. This is the last straw. Go back and tell Dumbledore that I’ll be there soon. Gather the press we need to come out with an announcement before they print something stupid and then… Then we will up the stakes.”

Sirius eyed his cousin. “He will oppose you.”

“He usually does.”

“But I’m with you on this one,” he said. “We do need to act.” Sirius acknowledged her with a nod and disappeared with a soft pop.

Bella turned to Bruce. He hadn’t said almost anything during her exchange with Sirius and strangely enough – it disturbed her. “Any questions?” she asked forcing out a smile.

“Many,” Bruce replied. “But it seems that you have little time.”

“I have to go,” she affirmed.

“Promise to come back and tell me about your world in exchange for abandoning me now and we’ll call it a deal,” he said lightly, although his expression was one of concern. _Killed? Destroyed? Damaged? Up the stakes?_ The words struck fear in him.

“Deal.”

He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Curse them to oblivion,” he wished her well echoing a sentiment from times long gone.

“I promise to bring back pictures,” she replied smiling lightly. A moment later she disappeared without a sound.

His gaze didn’t leave her until the last possible moment. There was nothing right in the world and the moments when you could forget that ended far too soon. He felt a strange sense of déjà vu. Bruce looked ahead at the ruins of his home and suddenly he felt confident; he could and would fix it. He made quick and determined steps towards the manor.


	3. Battle Magic

Bellatrix strode in the dining hall and intentionally banged the doors startling the group of wizards and witches within. A glass panel in the door cracked and fell to the floor shattering in a thousand little pieces. Few seconds later a house elf appeared and began repairing the damage.

“Great Warlock, to what do I owe the pleasure?” her polite words were spoken both sharply and venomously.

Sirius winced at her tone while several others frowned.

“I assume you have heard of the attack, Minister Black,” Dumbledore replied.

“I have and I wonder what _you_ know about it.”

“What matters now,” he said ignoring her not so subtle hint. “Is what you, my dear Madame Minister, are going to do?”

A small, arrogant smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Sirius, did you call the press?” she asked disregarding the ancient headmaster.

“Sure,” he said nodding. The Potters and few others who were closest to him began asking questions, but he shushed them with a gesture of his hand.

“Do you already know what you’re going to say?” Dumbledore asked.

“The truth,” Bella replied without hesitation.

“People will panic. It would not be a very smart move, dear. I think …,”

“That’s it, Dumbledore! You may _think_ , but when push comes to shove, I am the Minister and I’m putting an end to this whole charade. I’ve watched for years as you play cat and mouse with Voldemort. Some losses here some wins there. You’ve been dragging this conflict out close to a decade,” she paused to take a breath. “I say – we finally go to full-scale war and be done with it!”

“I’ve done what was best and safest for everyone involved,” he said strongly.

“Maybe,” she conceded the point. “But at the same time, you haven’t done anything to end it either and can you honestly say that a war that never seems to end is in anyone’s best interest?” she questioned harshly. “So – I’m saying it’s time. I don’t know how about everyone else, but there’s a life I want to live, and I’ll do my best to get what I want.

‘This attack on the Ministry – there isn’t a lie big enough to cover it and no matter what the official statement is – people will know. And they will be afraid. They will be terrified, because if we won’t talk about it – it will seem that we’re afraid too and that will mean that all’s lost before we even begin real fighting.

‘I’ll tell the press what has happened today. Today we will stand up. And tomorrow – there’s open season on Death Eaters and Voldemort.”

Bella was breathing heavily no longer because of fury, but because of the passion she poured in her speech. She’d spent two years as the Minister for Magic making and keeping the government stable and trustworthy; she had done what was best for her subjects with cold and clinical precision – she had never cared much for those under her protection, but suddenly, _now,_ at this moment – she did.

“I understand – this action was bold even for Voldemort, but that means he is getting desperate,” Dumbledore said placatingly. “We shouldn’t repeat his mistake.”

“We already have been desperate for far too long,” she replied candidly. _She_ had been desperate for too long – desperate for the heritage that was still out of her reach even with Walburga dead and the title now hers.

“My dear, do you even know where he resides?”

Bella slightly frowned and her gaze turned piercing, “I would bet that you do.”

“I’m not going to tell you – what you’re planning is suicide,” Dumbledore said. “Voldemort cannot be taken down in one large attack – our best strategy is the one we’re exploiting now. I understand you’re upset, because of the attack on Ministry, but this is not the time for rash actions that would undoubtedly only cost more lives.”

“I disrespectfully disagree, but I do admit that with your help it would be easier,” she said her head held high. “However, I did not come here to discuss the course of action the Ministry is going to take. I came here to _inform_ you what I’m about to do out of courtesy – so you don’t have to read it in the evening’s paper.”

“James is a Senior Auror and Lily is an excellent Obliviator while your cousin heads the department of…”

“No,” she stated.

“And I’ve brought several other people to help – we can make a cover for this…”

“No offence to the talents of your prodigies, but that’s not good enough for me,” Bellatrix said decidedly. “And since I’m the Minister, what’s not good enough for me, is not good enough for my country.”

Dumbledore was quiet for a while; he chose his next words carefully. “Is there anything I can do to sway your mind?”

“No,” her answer was short and sure. Ever since she took the office she had prepared for the eventuality where running and fighting again tomorrow would no longer be a viable option. It was time and she had a plan long in the making.

“Very well,” Dumbledore said inclining his head slightly. “The best of luck to you then, my dear Madame Minister.” His tone didn’t betray the trepidation he felt.

“Thank you, Great Warlock of the Wizengamot,” she said coldly and formally. She managed _not_ to sound mocking. After all the ancient Headmaster was a great wizard, somewhat set in his ways and entirely too soft-hearted, but still great and a Priest of Light to boot, and Bellatrix had a very healthy respect for power.

Dumbledore took another long look at her, but since it was obvious to him that he won’t be able to change her mind, he took his leave from the manor of the Minister of Magic. The small palace had served every Minister since the office had been established. To some Ministers this was home until their deaths. Dumbledore sincerely hoped that it wouldn’t be so for Bellatrix.

The dining hall cleared rather quickly after the Headmaster departed. Soon only the Potters and Sirius were still there.

Bellatrix looked at Sirius questioningly. “You’re still here,” she stated.

“I already told you – I’m with you,” her cousin replied steadily. “I sure hope you have some aces up those silk sleeves of yours though.”

“We’re with Sirius,” Lily spoke for herself and her husband before Bella could ask them.

Bellatrix considered the trio for a moment before nodding. “All right,” she said and turned to leave. “Follow me.”

She led them through the house towards the backyard where the press conference was going to take place.

“When the press leaves – then we’ll talk,” she said to them before stepping up on the podium.

When she stood on the hastily erected platform everyone turned to her and some lights flashed from photographer’s cameras. She waited a moment until she had the complete attention of everyone on the lawn and used _Sonorus_ charm on her throat before speaking.

“I apologize for gathering everyone here so late in the evening on such short notice. However, in the light of recent events I wouldn’t want false news to create alarm amongst the citizens which is why I have taken it upon myself to explain the situation to you. I have a statement and I will answer few of your questions later.

‘As some of you may have heard today after the end of the official workday of the Ministry – the building was attacked by followers of Voldemort. In ensuing fight, the Ministry was badly damaged and regrettably we lost precious lives.

‘This bold and brutal attack won’t be forgotten nor forgiven. The Ministry will retaliate. At this very moment the Wizengamot is holding a closed meeting and within an hour new laws shall be passed. The Ministry is no longer going to restrict its actions to passively protecting the citizens; the Ministry is going to take a stand. We have been provoked and this is not the time to turn the other cheek,” she said calmly even though her gaze seemed scorching to those that caught her eye. “The war is over.”

A photographer managed to capture a picture in the exact moment she said that, and the photography would decorate the evening editions of Daily Prophet and other Wizarding magazines under varying titles all carrying the same message. _‘The tide of the war has changed – War is over.’_

Until now – everyone knew that Voldemort was evil, that he was out there and that he had followers. That he was ready to kill all those that stood in his way and that it was wise to be scared if there was an ounce of _dirt_ in your blood. But nobody talked about The War. Nobody fought but those that wanted and those to whom protection was a duty. Nobody talked about it. Everyone looked twice behind their backs but went on with their lives even if there were increasingly more security measures enforced by the Ministry. Now when the Minister had said it – that one word 'War' - it was like a dam had been broken. Everyone knew about it and everyone could talk.

Up until now it had always been a nightmare in the back of the mind, never escalating into living horror, but never leaving either. A constant terror. It had been a stalemate for years, even since before the Lady Black was elected a Minister.

“So, there’s a war again? The Ministry is going to war?” a reporter who was close to the podium shouted.

“I didn’t put it like that,” Bellatrix said. She wanted the people to want to fight, not cover in fear. She wanted them to feel brave when they were scared. If she had to add a couple of insults to her speech and draw Voldemort’s attention to herself when she had spent years politely avoiding him – she was ready to do it. And not because of some misguided sense of righteousness or protectiveness, but because she had better things to do with her life than to play cat and mouse with the Death Eaters. Because she wanted this to end _now_. And she believed she could _win_ this _now_.

And absolutely nothing of it all had anything to do with Bruce and their stupid kiss.

She had fled the Wizarding world to escape Voldemort and his service. She had intended to find a way to claim her priesthood before facing Voldemort, but as years went by it had become painfully obvious that it would not happen before Voldemort’s defeat. That she would have to find a way to withstand him without the ancient magic protecting her.

The normal way would have been – to come of age, to visit Glastonbury and perform the ritual in the waters surrounding the Isle of Avalon, to claim Dukedom and House in time. Instead she had claimed the House first – taking it out of stewardship of her aunt, then she had claimed the Dukedom when her aunt passed, but Voldemort’s barrier still surrounded Glastonbury and she could not cross it.

She wanted to put an end to this predicament that had been hanging over her head since before she had been born. She wanted to go back to Gotham, because it felt more like home to her than the Wizarding world had ever been, because she had a friend waiting for her back in Gotham to whom she owed an explanation.

“I said that the war is over. _Going_ to war means taking a chance that you may lose. Voldemort and his band of small-minded followers are terrorists that need to be _stopped._ One does not fight filth – one _exterminates_ it. Death Eaters are poison to our society and Ministry is going to put an end to it once and for all.”

It took a moment before another question was poised. “I just received a message that Headmaster Dumbledore is not at the Wizengamot. Can a law be passed without the Great Warlock?”

“The Wizengamot can hold a trial and give a conviction without the Great Warlock,” she stated simply. “The Wizengamot _can_ pass a law without the Great Warlock.”

“Shouldn’t you as the Minister attend the meeting then? Shouldn’t you be the one directing it?” a red-haired witch from the middle of the crowd asked in an enchanted, strong voice.

“Since I am the one who introduced the bills the current law regarding impartiality of such proceedings dictates that I, in fact, should _not_ be there.”

“Can you tell us the nature of those laws?”

“One adds to the regulations of the DMLE and a few others specify charges and punishments that will be brought upon Voldemort and any and all of his followers.”

“How can you be so sure that the bills will pass?”

Bella smiled inwardly. The timing was perfect. “I believe that if you want to catch the members of the Wizengamot and find out if the bills passed or if my conviction was misplaced – you should hurry. The meeting is ending _just_ about _now_.”

Within a minute her lawn was empty again if one doesn’t count the Potters and Sirius.

BBRBW

“Yeah, how can you be so sure that the bills will pass?” James asked walking up to the witch when all reporters and photographers had left. He frowned in suspicion because the whole thing seemed too convenient to be incidental to him.

Bella didn’t answer instead she motioned for them to follow her and went back inside. She led them to the first floor sitting room with the windows to east and sat down comfortably in an armchair. Lily and Sirius followed her suit while James stood and looked at her impatiently awaiting answer.

“It took some work, but I convinced most of the Wizengamot that passing my bills would be the best course of action,” she said calmly.

“Some. Not all?”

“ _Some_ proved to be unyielding and completely unwilling to listen,” her lips curled into a small smile.

“Why?” James asked. “I’m sure your powers of persuasion are quite … impressive,” he didn’t quite manage to keep leer out of his tone.

“It was unlikely that I would manage to persuade _some_ of them to pass a law that would be later used against them. I decided to cut my losses and let those _some_ be.”

James laughed out loud. “Okay,” he said but he meant much more than simply accepting her answer. He meant that he was accepting her as one of them – as someone by whose side he was going to fight.

“Sirius,” she said turning to her cousin. “Tomorrow the war is going to end. One way or the other, but I’m fairly sure our side is going to win even if by snatching the victory out of jaws of defeat,” she recited the idiom tiredly. “And tomorrow I’m going to resign.”

“What?” Sirius was glad that he was sitting.

“When you first made me the offer to be a Minister you swore that I would be free to make my own decisions. And I have decided,” Bellatrix said. “Once the war ends, I will submit my resignation.”

“But …” Sirius tried to object.

“I will not be needed. And I _don’t want_ to be needed. I agreed to be a Minister while Voldemort was at large, I agreed to take up the mantle of the Family and I sided with _you_. Not with Dumbledore or the Order of the Phoenix. I sided with you and what _you_ stand for.”

“But we will need a Minister to rebuild. Even _if_ war ends tomorrow – we will need a Minister otherwise the Ministry will be rendered useless and, in the power, vacuum another evil lord might rise,” Lily said and not for the first time Bellatrix thought there was something odd yet familiar about the witch though she couldn’t quite place her finger upon it.

“Well,” Bella said slowly turning to face her cousin. “Sirius, are you up to the job?”

James snorted at the look on his best friend’s face. Somehow, they were in a sitting room and discussing the fate of the world without even a tea. Somehow everything had suddenly started to spin faster and faster and they were taking giant steps and changing the world, however James could always find a moment for a good laugh.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Sirius managed to say.

“Actually – no. Although all those years ago when you offered the position to me - I thought something along the same lines.”

“The position is not inheritable. How are you planning to get him assigned?” Lily asked curiously.

“He’s a head of a department and my chosen deputy. He automatically takes over when I resign for the rest of my term and I know for a fact that most of the department heads will support him when the election comes around.”

James snorted again. “Most? _Again_?”

Bella resisted the urge to clench her teeth. Seriously. “He can count on the support of the Auror Division and DMLE, right?” she asked pointedly. “The public support of Viscount of Tintagel?”

“Sure,” James replied without hesitation. However he did have to bite his tongue to refrain from asking if she minded using her powers of persuasion on him or his father to get the Viscount’s support. He didn’t want to sleep on the couch for the next month. Redheads and jealousy didn’t mix well.

“Good,” she said. “After he’ll help with the reconstruction – it’s unlikely that he won’t be voted in the office for _every_ election to come,” Bella said mostly to Lily. “But the power play after this decade isn’t really my concern anymore.”

“Don’t talk about me in third person while I’m here,” Sirius’ tone was somewhat indignant. He wasn’t sure he liked how things were turning out to be.

Bella raised her eyebrows at him. “Fine.”

“Why me?” he asked in a much more docile tone of voice.

“Because you care about people. Because you want to help them. Because you want to be involved. Because you’re strong enough to stand on your own. Because you’re a Black. Should I continue?”

Sirius couldn’t resist the urge to smirk. “I never knew you thought so well of me.”

Bellatrix resisted the urge to swat at him.

Lily pondered for a moment. “It’s kind of fitting,” she said slowly. “Everything will change once the war ends. All the tension about blood issues will slowly bleed away and there will be a new order – like it always happens when a regime is brought down. She was the last Minister in the old order, and you’ll be the first in the new one, both of you close and important members of a much respected family and a perfect balance too. She is a Dark witch and you’re a Light wizard.”

“If I’m going to be the Minister – what are _you_ going to do?” Sirius asked interrupting the silence that settled after Lily’s little speech.

“I’m going to leave,” Bella answered. “Probably for good as soon as I do the priesthood ritual.”

“How long have you been planning this?” Lily asked suddenly. Because while Bellatrix was accepting their remarks and opinions – she wasn’t presenting a plan for discussion, she was _informing_ them of what was going to happen. The war was really going to end tomorrow and Lily didn’t know how she felt about the fact that someone could have planned everything so perfectly that when the first opportunity came – it was like the first dice fell and all of the others collapsed in a chain reaction.

“Since I took the office,” Bella replied honestly. She didn’t like her job much and Rosier Limited was running like the well-oiled corporate machine that it was. She was alone and she had a lot of time on her hands, there were a lot of things she was annoyed at so she had a lot of issues to sort through, and the plan just kind of fell in place.

Young, impressionable, forced to hide, pressured and cornered; the most important things in her life happened because of what Voldemort did. She hated having to trace everything she was back to him. She disliked that what she did was defined from what he did. The world was too small for the both of them and now she was a big girl and wouldn't stand for competition.

“It’s got something to do with him? That guy I saw you with?” Sirius suddenly asked referring to Bruce.

“Some part, yes,” she answered honestly a moment later.

James looked back and forth between the cousins before deciding that that was the end of this conversation. “All right! If we’re going to do this… We need to fire-call Peter and Remus.”

“No,” Bellatrix disagreed.

“What do you mean _‘no’_?” James demanded. “They’re our friends. We’re a team and that is how we roll,” he looked proud of his Muggle Rock’n’Roll reference. He even winked at Lily.

“Tonight, is a full moon. What would a certain friend of yours say about that?” she asked coldly.

“Really?” Sirius asked surprised – he had completely forgotten about the moon. It made him feel uncomfortable. There was once a time he knew lunar cycles half a year ahead, but these days he often forgot to even fire-call Remus to check up on him.

“How do you know about that?” James asked narrowing his eyes.

“You’re supposed to be intelligent,” Bellatrix remarked nastily.

“What’s supposed to be the …,”

“She’s the Minister, darling,” Lily interrupted her husband. “And Remus is registered so that he could receive his free monthly Wolfsbane potion and social benefits from the ministry. That’s how she knows.”

“Oh,” James finally dropped into a seat. “Okay, Remus is out then, but what have you got against Peter?”

“I don’t trust him,” Bella said simply.

“I would trust him with my child!” James protested loudly.

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have a child,” Bellatrix shot back.

“Trixy – explain, please,” Sirius asked stepping up to play the mediator between his mate and his cousin.

“He hangs out with certain people, also the way he acts…,” she intentionally replied slowly.

“So, all you’ve got is a _feeling_?” James asked bitingly.

“That and the fact that Voldemort sent him to me with Rothschild's Slipper orchids and a recruitment message about a year ago,” Bella announced calmly.

“A year?” Lily whispered shocked.

“You’re lying!” James stated angrily.

Sirius said nothing, just frowned in thought.

“Why would I invent such a lie?” she asked annoyed. “Honestly. He’s not the most scandalous or important individual that could surprisingly turn out to be a Death Eater.”

“But he is our friend,” Sirius said quietly. “Or _was_ our friend.”

“Padfoot – you _believe_ her?” James asked.

“Tell me you haven’t noticed anything weird about him?” Sirius answered with a question.

“Of course, I have,” James said in a _‘duh’_ tone. “But he’s Peter. He’s been weird ever since he was born.”

“Not like this,” Sirius disagreed. Now that Bellatrix had told them the truth about Peter – a lot of things made more sense than before.

“I can’t just accept that one of my best friends is a traitor,” James said passionately. “And neither should you,” he pointed to his wife and the man who was closer than a brother to him.

“Potter,” Bellatrix spoke tired of watching the family drama unfold. “We really don’t have time for you to get your head out of your ass.”

“But you can’t just…” he protested.

“I can and I did,” Bella interrupted him. “Deal with it _after_ tomorrow.”

“You’ve known for a year?” Lily asked when the silence and James settled.

“Yes,” Bellatrix admitted.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“You can’t even really manage to believe me _now_ , plus he claimed to be under Imperius when I questioned him and _I_ know he was lying, but most of _you_ goody-two shoes fools would believe him so I waited for a better moment to tell you,” Bella explained. “Also, he thinks he managed to Obliviate the information out of my head. I needed him to continue to think that.”

James slumped in his seat, Sirius leaned forward contemplatively, Lily just stared into space and Bellatrix gave them a moment to wrap their heads around the bombshell she had just dropped on them. It was going to be _just_ them.

Oh, sure – there will be a whole lot more people fighting when the actual battle breaks out, but in here, planning and preparing, fearing and hoping, shaping the world – it was just the four of them, and Lily had a feeling that even _this_ was three people more than Bellatrix had anticipated. Somehow it was a terribly sad thought.

Then Lily suddenly spoke up, frowning, "Wait?! Wait a minute! You mean to tell me that Voldemort sent you a bouquet of flowers worth 3000 quid a piece?"

"Well, it wasn't _a bouquet,_ it was seven orchids, whatever the significance of the number," Bellatrix replied frankly. "Besides as expensive as they were - they could have looked better. At least they smelled tolerably," she sniffed in disdain.

Lily snorted. Then she giggled. Then she full out laughed. "I believe you now," she said calming down. "We can do this. We can win this war."

BBRBW

The moon was round and high in the sky. Bella took a deep breath and smiled a big smile showing her whitish canines to her cousin. Sirius snorted. Her gaze turned to her left where the Potters were. She was glad to have them at her side, despite everything she might have ever thought about them.

“All right,” she said as a way of beginning. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She could feel the adrenalin rush in her system. An attack like this hadn't been staged in decades. “We all know what we have to do. Let's go do it.”

“Well, that was a great pep talk, Bellatrix,” James said. There was no venom in his humour. “You have a way with words that simply...,” he abruptly shut up when he noticed his wife glaring at him.

“Good luck,” Lily said earnestly and extended her hand to shake Bella's.

Bellatrix didn't hesitate. She shook the hand of a mudblood. Her aunt would be rolling in her grave if she knew. The strange sense of familiarity hit her again. “You too.”

Then Lily and James left. Their task was to attack from behind of the manor with as much brute force as James' Auror division could manage to make it seem like that was their main and only plan of engagement.

Bella knew though that Voldemort wouldn't be foolish enough to assume that that's all they were planning. She knew he'd hold back, but she also knew that nobody could hold back long against James Potter. That man could infuriate a saint. Which is why Sirius was coordinating an attack through the main door. He'd charge in as soon as James gives his signal.

She could freely admit that her cousin has a spectacular flair for the dramatic. Knowing him from the times when Marauders terrorized Hogwarts students in good humour, she almost felt bad for the under handed tactic of sending them on Voldemort. No self-respecting wizard would expect to be fought with pranks.

Being a self-respecting witch, she hadn't planned to include the practical jokes either, but James and Sirius insisted when she had introduced them to the final draft of the attack plan. It was Lily who convinced her to let them do what they wanted. With a little tweaking innocent jokes turned dangerous and Bella felt surer than ever. If _she_ hadn't expected it, hadn't planned it – there was no way Voldemort was ready for it.

She knew all too well how alike she and Voldemort are. She knew that the pranks wouldn't win her _her war_ , but they just might give her the edge she'd been looking for all this time. She is a powerful witch and she knows that Voldemort is more than her match in power, but what Voldemort doesn't realize and _she does_ is that they both lack the ingenuity in practical application of magic that would make them great. True magic is so much more than raw power or birth right.

The ground floor windows of the manor exploded outwards and rockets shot up in the sky above the house exploding in magnificent fireworks. It was James' signal. Sirius saluted her, mounted his broom and was off with the DoM operatives following his lead. That left only her on the top of a smaller hill looking at the battle raging on the larger hill right in front of her.

Voldemort's manor had only two points of accessibility. Only two potentially weak points in the wards. The front entrance and the backdoor. No way to get in through the windows or walls. At least not until Lily crashes the warding system.

A terrific Obliviator and once a strait-laced Head Girl of Hogwarts – Lily had certainly picked up some shady tricks during her tenure in the Order of Phoenix. Bella grinned. Despite her blood, Lily Potter was an excellent witch and Bellatrix was raised liberal enough to be able to, well, admire that about the woman who despite being at a complete disadvantage in their society was frankly brilliant.

That was also one thing she didn't understand how Voldemort didn't get being a half-blood himself. For example, Lily had done everything possible to improve herself and she was a fantastic and ingenious ally to have, while the purebloods on Voldemort's side relied mostly on old tricks and the afore mentioned brute strength.

She watched as the chimney went up in the sky like a space rocket. _'Sirius.'_ Her cousin for one was full of new tricks.

It was also a signal for her. The wards were frayed. She could slip through them undetected. She donned James' Invisibility Cloak – she hadn't known he possessed such an item and had procured one by herself, but when Potter offered, Sirius insisted that she accept it. They claimed that with it they'd evaded certain death at the hands of McGonagall numerous times. James said that she would need the good luck it had absorbed through years of their misdemeanour.

She mounted her broom. Maybe she did need the luck. No one had gone after Voldemort directly before. She had one task tonight – kill Voldemort.

BBRBW

She hovered by a third story window and watched as Voldemort became increasingly agitated and angry; his handsome face twisted by anger, magic and his own will. He wasn't alone in the room. His three closest lieutenants where still by his side. They were all standing still as if posing for a painting, but Bella knew better. She knew they were waiting. Waiting for the pawns to die. For her people to tire before they sent in the assassins.

There was a crash downstairs and one of the masked wizards by Voldemort's chair shifted on his feet. “My Lord...”

She saw the scathing look Voldemort levered on his subordinate. The man stilled immediately.

It was ten incredibly long minutes before a rat ran into the room. Peter Pettigrew transformed into his human form and kneeled in front of his Master. “My Lord. Dumbledore isn't coming. This isn't his plan. This is on the order of the Minister.”

Voldemort smirked. “Good. Very good,” he drawled and extended his wand. “Thank you, Peter. Crucio,” when Pettigrew collapsed on the floor wailing and crying – all the sounds of his distress drowned in the noise of the battle – Voldemort turned to his lieutenants, “Go. Finish them all,” he ordered.

His three best assassins left, and Bellatrix knew she would have no better chance than this. She crashed through the window. She let the momentum carry her down to the floor and forward once she let go of the broom. The Invisibility Cloak fell off her. “Avada Kedavra,” she aimed, and her curse fell true to the target – Pettigrew died instantly.

If she were honest, she didn’t kill Peter just because he was the spare one in this duel. She killed him, because she knew her cousin and his friends – they were forgiving idiots and after tonight, they had earned a place in her good graces, which meant that she also killed Pettigrew to save them all future trouble. Bellatrix wasn't a big fan of second chances, after all.

“Madame Minister. I'm honoured,” Voldemort didn't appear to be the least bit surprised; he also didn’t bat an eye at Peter’s death. He bowed lightly and formally to her.

She got to her feet and grinned like a madwoman; she had learned the expression from Sirius. “Confringo!” she cast the blasting curse and not bothering with courtesies. She wasn't here to chat.

Voldemort shielded himself but didn't otherwise engage her. He watched her with a hungry gleam in his slit eyes. She shuddered with both disgust and sudden desire. _No, no._

“Expulso,” she snarled leaving no mistake as to her intent.

Voldemort deflected again. “Dear Lady Black spells like that... You'll hurt yourself if you're not careful,” he tutted. “Imperio!”

She twisted to her right and the spell passed her by a few centimetres. She couldn't resist a little taunt. “Your age and the late hour, they must be getting to you. Sectumsempra!”

He shielded himself and took a step closer. “Severus taught you that? I always suspected him, you know,” he said conversationally. “It's so hard to find good double agents.”

“Expulso! Confringo! Reducto!”

The combined force of the spells she cast impacted Voldemort's shield and he was thrown against the far wall of the room. He collapsed on the floor.

“Protego Horriblis,” Bellatrix immediately cast a shield for herself. The snake was down, but she didn't trust her eyes on this. She cautiously took a step closer. She waved her wand thinking, _'Avada Kedavra'_.

The green spell harmlessly passed Voldemort as he unexpectedly rose to his feet. He made slashing motion after motion with his wand and four spells Bella couldn't identify impacted her shield. She cast a curse at Voldemort before crossing her arms in front of her head protectively once her shield shuddered under the onslaught and a half-powered spell made it through her shield and threw her against the wall.

She felt her knees go weak, but she didn't slide down to floor. His wand was aimed at her. Insanity burned in his eyes. He raised his wand hand and she felt herself sliding _up_ the wall a bit. Her feet lost their purchase on the ground.

“Such a loss, Bellatrix,” he said mournfully though there was no emotion behind his words. “You could have been one of my best. The very best, I think. I would have taught you myself, you know. My favourite, my priestess…”

She strained to smile a bloodied smile at the monster. She cast a silent spell and gave it her all. With a sharp flick of her wand she broke free of his hold over her and crashed to the ground. “Crucio!” she said unthinkingly.

For the first time since the beginning of the battle she managed to strike him with a spell. Him, not just his shield. She hated him. Oh, Merlin, how she hated him, and she thought about all that anger and frustration, and hate pouring it into her spell, making him collapse on his knees in silent agony.

But she couldn't hold on to it for long. There were so many more thoughts and feelings in her head than soul blackening hatred. Her hold on the spell slipped and it was all that Voldemort needed. Enraged he cut with his wand and Bellatrix crashed headfirst into a wall.

He swayed as he rose to his feet, but she didn't see that. Blood was pouring into her eyes from a cut on her head. She was dizzy and afraid for the first time since this began. For the first time ever, she had serious doubts. For the first time she allowed a thought that this might not go like she had planned – she might lose.

 _Merlin,_ if she lost, then... If she lost, then the lives of her people were forfeit. _Sirius.._

“Pathetic,” Voldemort said. “You could have been so much more, but right now you're nothing, but a liability. I believe someone further down the line, your sister, for example, Lady Malfoy, will be far more agreeable to my cause. Not nearly the boon I was looking for, but…”

Her hands were bloody. She didn't know why. She felt no pain. Her wand was on the floor out of her reach. She stretched for it knowing it was in vain; her fingers clawed at the wooden floor breaking her nails. She could never make it. She didn't have a chance. Maybe she had never really had it.

“Goodbye, Lady Black. Avada,” the door to the room exploded showering them both in splinters and making him pause. “Kedavra,” he redirected his wand to the open doorway and even though Sirius tried to twist out of the way the curse hit him in the shoulder.

  
She didn't see her cousin slump against the corridor wall. She used the distraction to crawl forward and grasp her wand in her fingers. Her palm was slippery with blood, but her hand didn't shake when she pointed her wand at Voldemort. “Avada Kedavra!” she screamed, and it was over.

Voldemort was dead and on the ground before all the dust in the room had settled. _Now_ she hurt. She hurt all over and deep inside and she just wanted to collapse back on the floor until she would have a little bit more strength, but she didn't. She rose to her feet, walked past Voldemort kicking him for good measure. She paused in the doorway.

Sirius was lying against the wall across the hall. His robe was torn and a bit scorched. There was rubble on him and all around him. She let out a shuddering breath. _'Merlin.'_ She hit the doorframe with her fist smearing it with blood.

Moments ago, she'd been terrified that she would lose. Now the victory had a bitter taste in her mouth. She took a hesitant step forward and knelt by her cousin. She ghosted her hand over his face when he suddenly shifted and groaned. Bellatrix fell backwards on her ass in shock and surprise.

“Trixy,” Sirius mumbled squinting up at her. “You all right?”

Uncharacteristically, Bellatrix snorted. “You're asking me?”

Sirius tried to sit up before replying but couldn't. He clenched his teeth so not to scream in pain. Bella leaned in to help him, but once her hand touched his back, she felt bone fragments digging into his skin from inside. His shoulder was shattered. She withdrew her hand immediately and whipped out her wand. “Stupefy!” she stunned him.

He was alive, she had no idea how that was possible, and he was in excruciating pain. She didn't know the status of the battle, but Voldemort was dead, and she was sure she could handle anyone else. Sirius didn't need to stay awake; he'd only harm himself more. She would protect him. Like he had had her back she would have his.

BBRBW

**Eight hours later…**

Bellatrix washed her face in cold water to freshen up a bit and took a sleepy glance at the image in the mirror. She didn't look bad _per se_. She even looked somewhat presentable. It's just that there was a long healing wound stretching from her forehead beyond the hairline, and she had bags under her eyes, also a couple of broken ribs, but those and all the other bumps and bruises, and burns wouldn't be visible in the fire call, so she didn't bother assessing them.

It's just as Andromeda's pregnancy progressed; her sister had developed an annoying habit of mothering, that felt more like smothering to Bellatrix, so as much as she enjoyed her sister's company, she was infinitely glad that after the marriage, Ted had taken Andy to settle in his homeland which happened to be as delightfully far as Northern Ireland.

The Daily Prophet was about an hour from being delivered country wide and Bellatrix wanted to calm her sister before any real and actual comforting was necessary.

Once she felt ready, she moved in the sitting room. The St. Mango's staff had made several adjourned rooms available for her, Sirius and the few people who knew for sure what had happened the night before. Bellatrix had a tight control on the flow of information and for the moment she was still determined to have her death announced at a later date, so for the time being - these rooms were where she lived and worked from.

She dropped a pinch of floo powder in the fire before sticking her head in the walk-in fireplace. "Black-Tonks residence," she said clearly.

"Bellatrix!" Ted exclaimed seeing his sister-in-law's head in the fireplace. Something crashed distantly in the house.

"Good morning, Ted," Bella greeted.

"You might want to...," he started to warn her, but couldn't finish, before Andromeda stormed in the room and threw a newspaper at Bella's face, which just passed her through and dropped in the flames bellow.

"Yes!" Andromeda hissed. "You might want to explain what in the name of Merlin is all that about!"

Bellatrix winced. "The newspaper's already been delivered?"

"A bloody half an hour ago!" Andromeda screeched. "I was afraid you were dead! I was going to _swim_ to London if I had to. Why are you not picking up your damn fireplace? Where the hell are you?"

Wisely and discreetly Ted left the room to let the sisters sort out their differences.

Bella let her sister shout and rage for a few minutes. "Calm down, Andy. This can't be healthy for you."

Andromeda dug her hands in her hips and hissed at her sister's head hovering in her fireplace, "You're one to talk about healthy! You lead a bloody war last night! A war! And bloody alone! Why didn't you call us! You keep on saying that Ted and me - we're as much part of the Family and everyone else - how come we didn't know? How come you almost died and told us nothing about it? I just... Bella...," Andromeda felt tears rising up in her eyes, her voice broke and she dropped down on the couch. Sometimes she hated how emotional her pregnancy made her.

There was just about nobody else whom Bellatrix would let to demand answers from her in such a way. In any way. "First of all, the battle was my decision as a Minister not as the Head of your Family and most certainly not as your sister. Andromeda, this was a stand that the Ministry as a governing body was both under obligation and oath to make on behalf of the Wizarding nation. Secondly no one, but those able to fight and _asked_ to fight knew about the fight. It was secret for reasons, I'm sure you can understand," there was none to whom Bella would explain herself with such calm indulgence - it was the privilege of her favourite sibling all alone. "I was never in any danger of dying," she lied well.

Andromeda sighed composing herself. "You will always be my sister no matter what else you are, but I understand why I didn't know about the battle. It's not like I can fight, and...," she looked her sister's fire-image over critically. "I bet this is the first call you make. I'm sorry for what I said. I just worry about you Bellatrix."

Bella smiled softly. "I know. Which is why I let you get away with it."

"I promise to be more tolerable once your niece is born," Andromeda promised lightly. "There has to be something else. You haven't told me everything I need to know yet," she observed astutely.

"No," Bellatrix agreed. "The chaos during the next few days is inevitable - stay where you are, there is no need for you in London. Whatever happens you need to know that I'm fine and that you don't have to look for me. Stay safe, everything should get better from now on and I'll contact you when I can. Understand?"

"Yes, sister," Andromeda said formally.

"Good," Bella favoured her sibling with another smile. "Also, please, give a call to Father in a day or two, and tell him I'm alive. Bye," and then she ended the fire-call.

Andromeda bit her lip and looked at her husband who was standing in the doorway. "I'm not sure I like this at all," she admitted quietly. She didn't want her sister to disappear again. She didn't want to live never knowing, always hoping and worrying. She didn't want to mourn again, but she would. If she had to.

BBRBW

**A day and sixteen hours later…**

Sirius had trouble opening his eyes, and when he did open them all he saw was white – it didn’t feel like much of a reward. He stared at the ceiling and groaned. He hated the colour white. Why couldn't someone paint the ceiling red? Or gold? He'd even take green or black over white.

“He sleeps like a dog. Like a _lazy_ dog. All day long all _week_ long,” someone said, and Sirius recognized James voice. A sound of slap was followed by an, “Ouch!” and an accusatory, “Lily!”

“Welcome back, Sirius,” Lily greeted him softly as he lowered his gaze and saw James face far too close and Lily hovering over Prongs' shoulder.

“Hi,” he said back to her. Feeling a presence on the other side of the bed, he turned his head and saw his cousin. Bellatrix was smiling at him. She was smiling sweetly. It was an unsettling sight, but nonetheless he grinned back. “So.. Did we win?”

“Yeah, we kicked ass!” James exclaimed.

“Good,” Sirius replied and relaxed into the bed. He hadn't realized how tense he was before he felt all of it drain away. “How long was I out anyway?”

“You were kept under for two days,” it was Bella who replied. She was looking at him oddly – it made Sirius a bit uncomfortable.

“So, what's the situation at the moment?”

Bellatrix looked at James and he began first, “We lost nine Aurors and two Unspeakables in the attack. Seven others are critically injured. Fourteen Death Eaters died in the fight. We arrested another twenty-three. To the best of our knowledge about a dozen are still at large including one of Voldemort's top lieutenants. We're pretty sure that it's Lucius Malfoy. All bank accounts of Death Eaters have been seized. All bank accounts of suspected Death Eaters are frozen until more evidence becomes available – they're out of funds and without leadership. Also, Voldemort's dead. Bella killed him,” he reported proudly.

Lily picked up where James left off, “It's been a rough couple of days, and I'll better start at the beginning and fill in the blanks James left open. All right?” she asked looking down at Sirius. He looked exhausted. “Or maybe you want to sleep some more?”

“Go ahead,” Sirius shook his head and immediately regretted the action. His shoulder _hurt_.

“Well, the battle was winding down when the word got around that Voldemort is dead. It was kind of a breaking point. Death Eaters lost their focus and formation. Some tried to run, some tried to surrender. It was quickly over after that. Those of us still standing subdued the prisoners and we port-keyed them all to the safe cells in the DoM. I called the St. Mango's and we transported the dead and the injured to the clinic.

'The word about the battle got around fast. The papers were full of correct and less accurate reports about what had happened already in the morning. Bellatrix hasn't shown in public yet so the rumours are still running wild about what's going on, but yesterday Dumbledore gave short report to the press to calm down the public saying that Voldemort really is dead and that, well, everybody shall know more as soon as possible.”

Sirius turned to Bella urging her to tell her story.

Bellatrix grimaced before beginning. “All the departments that didn't take part in the fight are in various states of disorder. Especially those division’s whose Heads haven't shown up for work since the battle, however Ministry is holding afloat. You're awake now so the chaos should soon be put to stop.”

“What do you mean?” Sirius asked.

“I've been operating out of the private ward of St. Mango's for the last few days waiting for you to wake up. _I'm_ giving _you_ a report. What do you think it means?” she asked back, impatiently.

“You handed in your resignation?” he didn't try to keep surprise out of his voice. He knew her plan, but up until now he hadn't thought of it as a real possibility. He'd been more focused on bringing down Voldemort.

“Not in a manner of speaking,” Bella said. “Since I plan to leave for good, it might be more convenient, if everyone was to think I'm dead,” she announced pragmatically.

“No,” Sirius immediately disagreed and turned to look at his friends for support. He saw it in Lily's and James' faces that they'd had this argument before and _lost_. “No. I refuse to mourn you.”

Bellatrix blinked. “I'm not asking you to _mourn_ me.”

“If you're dead, I'm in mourning. I'm not going to mourn!” he protested. “I'm Sirius Black! That _does not_ mean that I look good serious and in black.”

James snorted. Lily wished she was in a position to elbow him. She loved her husband to death, but his and his friends’ juvenile humour still occasionally grated on her nerves.

“No. If you want to leave – you can. I swore that to you, but you're going to leave as the war hero you are,” Sirius said resolutely. He looked Bella in the eye and dared her to disagree with him.

Bella frowned. She could turn him down. She was the Head of the Family. But then again, she remembered how she felt when she thought he was dead. The memory mellowed her, and she didn't think more before growling “Fine, Minister.”

“Not yet,” Sirius winked at her. “I want the ceremonial keys and a big party first.”

BBRBW

It was late in the evening the same day when Bellatrix walked back into her cousin's hospital room. She knew he wasn't sleeping, because she could see from the hastily smoothed blankets that had dog hair on them that he had just transformed. She supposed it was probably easier on him to be in dog's skin when recuperating.

“I knew you'd be back,” he said and opened his eyes. A nurse would have sounded different _and_ smelled different.

She nodded. “So. You do remember.”

“Some of it,” he replied evasively.

Bellatrix sat down on an uncomfortable, wooden chair by his bed. “I know what happened. I just don't understand. How did you survive? I saw it hit you.”

Sirius punched his pillow to make it fluffier and relaxed in the bed. “Lily, I think,” he answered shortly.

She cocked her head to side but didn't say anything. She was a patient woman even if she had been an impatient child. She could wait for him to gather himself enough to figure out how to tell what happened.

“Did you tell them?” he asked suddenly. “Did you tell Lily and James what happened?”

“No,” Bella shook her head. “Who would have believed me?”

“You're still the Minister.”

“With a severe concussion when they brought me in,” she remarked.

“You all right?” he asked, concerned.

“I'm fine. I drank a potion and I'm as good as new, and you and I are the only ones who know that what happened isn't something I saw only because Voldemort banged my head on a wall.”

Sirius nodded. He wasn't sure that he ever wanted the information to be public knowledge. While it would make for a great story for the ladies, if he had a scar that is, he didn't want to put his friends and himself under the scrutiny it would cause.

“It's a fluke, really. I got a bit carried away with making a rocket out of the fireplace when I got hit with a bludgeoning curse. It didn't kill me, since James managed to shield me, but I still landed against the wall and, according to Lily, managed to crack my scapula. You know full well that we all agreed not to bring the medics in until the worst of it was over and it was a hotspot then and there. I was hurting, but I wanted to go on, but, we all knew that even with a numbing spell, I wouldn't last long and a well-placed hit would bring me down, make me an easy target...

'Lily had a brainstorm. She said a lot of things, most of which I don't remember and then she said she'd make me a cast, like the Muggles wear when they break something. She's Charms Mistress so that when she cast a spell to immobilize my shoulder, I kind of ended up with a marble upper body shield. It all happened so very fast. It took less than a minute before we were all back in fight and by then a man had already died watching our backs. I felt heavy and a bit fat,” Sirius smiled wryly, “but I could move and I wasn't hurting. I didn't think much of it until later,” Sirius admitted.

“When I thought you were dead... You were lying in rubble. Stones were all over you. In that moment I didn't think much of it, but now I think it was probably the marble,” Bella said thoughtfully.

“That must have been it. The curse shattered the cast and my shoulder. I guess my life was a bit too much for it to chew,” he grinned weakly.

“That's one a hell of a shield Lily gave you,” Bellatrix remarked.

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed. “Do you think I should tell them?”

She thought for a moment before replying. “It's entirely up to you. I won't tell anyone,” she promised and paused wrestling with an idea that had been nudging at her for the past days. “It would tempt people far too much for you are too annoying at times,” she teased half-heartedly.

“Trixy, I'm serious.”

“I know,” she grinned, but calmed soon. “Look. Lily is the kind of witch who likes to push her limits. Knowing that she saved you – it will give her a hundred thousand ideas how to save others. _And_ guilt that she hadn't done it sooner. She won't blab to the Teen Witch about it and she won't get a superiority complex,” Bella paused. “But you already know that.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to hear you say it,” Sirius admitted. “You and her, and James. You're all my family and all my life I never expected a Black to like my chosen family. It’s just... It feels nice,” he grinned. “So, expect me to milk it as much as I can.”

Bella smiled indulgently. “The medicine is making you cheesy.”

“Yes, it is,” he agreed. “Please leave before I say something like _I love you, Trixy_ in a completely non-creepy, platonic way.”

She laughed and stood from the chair. In a different world where she'd be a different woman, she wouldn't even understand the face-value meaning much less the sentiment behind his words. “Get well soon, cousin,” she wished him before leaving.

BBRBW

“You were looking for me?” Bellatrix asked stepping from veranda into the living room of Minister’s Manor.

“Oh! Yes, yes, I need to talk to you, it couldn’t wait,” Lily jumped from the chair she had been sitting in.

“So, I was informed,” Bellatrix noted. Outside the horizon was barely tinged with red. Dawn was yet to come. “What is the matter?” she asked maintaining her distance from the other witch, but engaging her, nonetheless. Every moment served to confirm the suspicion that had been growing in her mind since Sirius confirmed that it was Lily’s magic that had saved his life.

“Is it true? What Sirius said?” Lily was worrying her hands. “It’s not that I don’t believe him, but...”

“But it’s just hard to believe,” Bellatrix replied uncharacteristically softly. She would not have gotten up at the crack of dawn to come to the Minister’s Manor which she had abandoned since the night of the battle to talk to just anyone… But Lily Potter. Lily Potter wasn’t just anyone, and now she knew it beyond a doubt.

“It’s not an everyday thing to create a shield that can make death pause in it’s way,” Bella continued coming closer – watching Lily as one would a curious specimen. But kindly. “Certainly not something that just _anyone_ could conjure.”

“You know more than you’re saying,” Lily replied, swallowing a lump in her throat. She wondered if she should feel afraid with the way Bellatrix was stalking towards her. If she should be afraid of the woman that killed Voldemort. But honestly… She had never been afraid of Bellatrix. She had _understood_ her, felt sympathy and pain for her.

“How do I know you?” she asked, and she meant all that bone-deep understanding that she didn’t even have with her blood born sister. And she knew Bellatrix would understand her meaning without needing to explain.

“Because we are sisters,” Bellatrix replied. She had felt something curiously familiar regarding Lily from the start, but now… “I took the waters at Glastonbury the night Voldemort died. I’ve felt the connection since then, but I did not know for sure until Sirius explained that it was _you_ that saved him.”

“You claimed your priesthood?” a surge of happiness overcame Lily. She would be happy for a friend, but this felt more... Like Family.

“And you have yet to claim yours,” replied Bellatrix.

“What?”

They had come close during the conversation. Bellatrix took the hands of a witch she might have despised in another life, and with whom she shared a bond in magic that was as strong as the one she had with Andromeda and Narcissa.

“You asked me what I know,” she said softly. “I could only suspect before I claimed my own power, but now I know – you, Lily Potter, are the priestess of Light, and that makes you my opposite and sister in magic.”

“I… But I’m a Muggleborn…,” Lily finally said, transfixed.

“It seems the Magic didn’t care. There is a mark in you that I recognize now. I think you haven’t felt the call of it, because… But you married right out of school, didn’t you? With the full Wizarding ceremony, didn’t you? Binding your souls? That would...” Bellatrix trailed off and Lily picked right up.

“That would explain why I have never been tempted one way or another. It would explain why even though I feel an understanding with you, I cannot pinpoint why, it would explain why…” Lily couldn’t voice the conclusion.

“Why you could stop a Killing Curse.”

“And if Voldemort had had either of us then… Then that power would have been his,” Lily shuddered and had sit back down breaking the link their hands had made. The fate that had been narrowly avoided weighing heavily on her.

Bellatrix went and sat opposite to her. As she would have with Andromeda. The voice of magic in her nearly overwhelming since taking the Waters. “But he didn’t.”

“Because of you,” Lily’s green eyes bore into Bella’s dark ones.

“Because of us,” she smirked. “I don’t think he had even an inkling who he was up against that night.”

“We certainly didn’t,” Lily huffed regaining some composure, before, “I know some stuff from Sirius, but... What does it mean exactly now?”

“It means that as soon as you can stand without being wobbly, we will go to Glastonbury and you will take the Waters and claim your full rights. And then, well… We shall see. There haven’t been two of us at the same time in quite a while, and certainly not from the opposite ends of Magic.” It also meant that Bellatrix’s plan to leave Wizarding World to its own devices was unlikely to succeed.

_Last time there was a combination of opposites they created Hogwarts…_

BBRBW

**Meanwhile in Gotham...**

Bruce had gone for years without any news from his imaginary friend and to be honest he had just about gotten used to the fact that he would never see her again when she had unexpectedly popped up in his bat-cave. Now it had been a few days since he'd last seen her, and it was slowly driving him crazy. He didn't know how he'd lasted all those years before.

These past few days he had a lot to deal with, but at the same time he felt that he had had far too much time to think. He felt he had over-thought the whole situation to death at least a dozen times over.

She wasn't real. He knew that. Sort of. She _felt_ real. He knew that too.

It was hard to think that she might be just a fruit of his over-active imagination as a child (which meant that, if he was seeing her again, he was seriously ill), especially, because she told him things. Incredible things. Detailed things about a world he had never seen but could see in his mind's eye as clear as the faces of his parents.

Besides he couldn't think of a reason why he would imagine a guy who pops in to take her away from him. He knew that sometimes he walked a fine line between reason and self-harm, but he wouldn't ever make her go away, if he could make her stay. He vividly remembered the evening when she told him she's never coming back. If she was just his imagination, she wouldn't have left in the first place. He wouldn't have let that happen.

Not to mention that he knew he's smart, but to think that he could imagine _her_ was far too arrogant. She was just so much, so complex and so very dear to him. She called him on his arrogance every time he slipped and hinted that he thought she's imaginary.

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. The whole situation was driving him insane. It had been so much easier to accept it without question as a child, but now... Now he had reason and far too many questions. He knew a lot about tricks of mind, he had learned from the masters, but he didn't want her to be an illusion.

And in the end – that is exactly what the whole thing narrowed down to. He knew logically that she couldn't be real, but he _wanted_ her to be.

He was far too old for imaginary friends anyway. He couldn't call her that anymore. That didn't mean in the least that he was giving up on her. If seeing her meant he was losing his mind, then the trip to insanity was far too sweet to resist.

His phone rang. He picked it up taking a quick look at the caller ID. _Unknown._ Judging by the country code before the number – _English._ “Bruce Wayne,” he said in the receiver.

“Since your last one is beneath a pile of rubble, mind telling me which cave you've crawled into _now_?”

He was glad he wasn't eating or drinking, as it was, he almost chocked on his own tongue when he heard the voice that was more familiar to him than his own over the phone lines. “Bella?"

"Yes, Bruce and I'm on a tight schedule, where are you?"

He frowned. Was it just him or did she sound a bit stressed? "I'm in my car. Alfred's driving."

Bella cursed on her end. Apparating across the ocean into a moving vehicle was not going to be easy and that is not even mentioning that she was going to present one hell of a trick to Alfred by doing so and open a whole other can of worms. But it wasn't like she had much of a choice at the moment.

There was a deep thump as, yet another spell impacted the door of her apartment. She had had magic woven into the very wood and polish and every piece of metal, but nothing is indestructible.

"Bellatrix what is going on?" Bruce asked hearing the ominous noises on the other end of the line.

"I really can't talk right now," Bellatrix singsonged before waving her wand to obliterate her laptop. "The car. It's the Rolls-Royce right?" She wasn’t going to be concentrating on the car, but it was always better to get the details straight.

"Yes," Bruce acknowledged shortly.

"Al-right!" Bella drawled cheerfully. "See you in a few minutes, just don't change the car, and, if you can - park it. Fast!" and then she dropped the call.

"Alfred - pull over," Bruce repeated immediately.

Alfred changed the lanes to pull over. "Something the matter Master Wayne?" he asked confused once the car came to a stop.

Bruce met Alfred's gaze in the back-view mirror. "I'm not sure. We will find out soon."

BBRBW

**Same time back in London...**

She heard a sizzling sound and turned just in time to see the metal adornments fall off the door. Her time was running dangerously short.

One would think that now with Voldemort gone and most of his inner circle Death Eaters either dead or incarcerated that everything was just peachy, but like always, nothing is over until it is really over.

Well, Bellatrix _was_ glad, because in a way she did get what she wanted - Voldemort was dead and there was no one with his potential for global destruction to step up in his place to ruin her life. Not to mention that she had already resigned so the Ministry, claimed her magical priesthood, helped Lily do the same, and the whole of Wizarding world was now her cousin's problem, so really so far everything had gone down exactly like she had wanted and planned.

Except now there was Lucius Malfoy who didn't care about the fate of the rest of the world but seemed to care very much about the destruction of her life. The man seemed to have developed a personal grudge against her, and his reasons Bellatrix could only guess (killing his Master, publicly rejecting alliance between their families despite her sister's marriage to the man, humiliating him on various public occasions - well, those might be at the top of his list - oh, also one of her last orders as a Minister had been to freeze all accounts of known and suspected Death Eaters, including those of Lucius Malfoy). Anyway, Bellatrix was aware that there was more than enough reason for a quarrel between them.

And now since Sirius had sneakily persuaded her not to make her death public; which of course didn't mean that she wasn't going to do all in her power to endorse the rumour of her untimely passing; with all the celebrations, reforms and roaming journalist-wannabes and people on the lookout for her (honestly, a little rumour to twist the mind of the masses is all good, but what the Quibbler had done with her anonymous suggestion was frankly ridiculous - seriously, _"Is she dead or deader? Our dear Madame Minister?"_ the awful title still rang in her head as the paper-boy had screeched it in the streets) there was no place for her to safely stay in England.

Especially when she couldn't trust that Narcissa wouldn't know her hideouts. They had been raised together - Narcissa knew all the family estates that were warded sufficiently and she seemed to have shifted her loyalties entirely to her new family, so for the moment - Bellatrix had to run and regroup. And she was going to run to the one place that nobody knew about - not even Sirius, not directly. He had Apparated and found her by navigating the blood Oath binding them and that was exclusive to the two of them.

But before she could run, she had to escape Lucius and whatever other goons of his had escaped her troops on the night of the battle and she had to destroy anything that might give hint as to where she's going to. She was not going to bring down Death Eaters on Bruce's doorstep.

Her door was blasted off its hinges. She turned sharply and pointed her wand at the door opening. "I don't remember inviting you in, Lord Malfoy."

"I don't recall asking for your opinion, Lady Black," he grinned widely. "Now, will you die nicely or will this have to get nasty?"

"I get a choice," she cooed. "Flattered, Lord. Very flattered."

"I would hate to be anything less than the very embodiment of courtesy, my Lady," he said confidently walking into her apartment, his goons spilling in the room behind him and spreading around, cornering her in.

She glanced at the open balcony door. It was the only exit point left. Then she looked back at Malfoy and smiled in challenge. "I would hate to be a bad host then," she said.

"Look at this," she stepped backwards until she was on the small balcony. She adapted an expression of outrage. "An open door in this weather! You must be chilled. Fiendfyre!" she cast the curse and fell backwards off the balcony doing something she hadn’t done for nearly a decade – finding that feeling, that sense of another person, that unfailing instinct that had once so often crossed the boundaries of countries, oceans, logic and even magic, she concentrated on that and Apparated mid-fall. 

She knew that the uncontrollable fire will most likely destroy the whole building, but since all of it (all 21 floors of it) belonged to her and she was the only tenant - she wasn't worried about casualties. Besides, the building was warded and however bad the fire got - it wouldn't spread.

Not to mention, she just knew that Lucius would escape. After all nothing ever was as easy as just burning it all to the ground. He would escape and she would be back later to deal with him. Sometime soon one of them - Lucius, if Bella had her way - will die, but not today. After all, even Bellatrix can't kill all her enemies in one week. It would make the rest of her life terribly dull now wouldn't it?

BBRBW

It was less like an Apparation and more like a soundless, sudden crash. Her head slammed against the headrest of the front seat, she hit various other parts of her body and most of it happened so fast that she only deduced what had happened from the lingering and renewed pains in her body when everything stopped and she found herself curled on the back-seat of Bruce's Rolls-Royce right beside the man himself.

"Dear God!" Alfred exclaimed and turned to look at what was happening, as the mirror offered very limited range. "Are you alright?"

"Bellatrix," Bruce reached for her only halfway realizing that Alfred hadn't been speaking to him. He stopped turning to Alfred, "You can see her?" he demanded incredulously.

"Of course, Master Bruce. I don't understand where she came from, but I can see the lady well enough," Alfred replied befuddled a bit. "Are you alright though, Miss?" he asked again.

"He can see you?" Bruce turned to her.

Bella rubbed her hurting forehead. Two concussions in one week. Not good even with the healing potions running in her veins. "Thank you, Alfred, I'll be alright," she answered softly, before turning to Bruce, "Yes, he can see me," she said candidly. _Out of the fire, into the frying pan._

She stared at Bruce and somehow find herself wishing she had a nervous habit so that she could nervously tap her fingers or bite her lip to pass the time as she watched as her admission slowly settled like a worm in Bruce's trust which hadn't been shaken by years of absence, but might be eaten from the inside by all she had yet to confess.


	4. Protective Magic

“Why can he... How can he...,” Bruce couldn't find the right way to put to words the storm of feelings rising in his chest. “I don't understand,” he confessed reluctantly suddenly feeling like he'd been played for a fool for years.

“I'm real, Bruce,” this was honestly not the way she had planned (eventually) to tell him. Bellatrix grit her teeth and pressed her lips together in a thin line in an effort to keep an altogether straight face. She hadn't expected him to be unquestionably overjoyed, but the grim expression on his face unsettled her more.

She knew there were dozens of things she owed to tell him in the wake of her revelation, but he didn't ask anything. She could guess a half of things that he might wrongly assume from their shared history based on her confession. Inexplicably she wanted to soothe all those worries, because if there was one thing in the world Bruce should _never_ doubt it was that she did consider him her dearest friend.

However, she didn't know a thing to say if he didn't ask her directly and he... Well, he didn't. He turned his gaze from her and stared in the distance. She glanced at Alfred, but he also was silent, his gaze moving from her to Bruce and back before settling on her.

“Maybe a doctor, nonetheless?”

Bella managed a tight smile and shook her hurting head lightly. “I'll be fine.” Her ribs were already fixed in place with slowly eroding healing charm that would disappear altogether once her bones healed and her veins were full of potions slowly working on repairing the damage in her body – the healers of St. Mango's had done their job very well, before releasing her from their care. All she needed was to stop running into fights for a while to let the healing magic do its work.

“Alright, then,” Alfred wasn't going to push more. He settled back into his seat properly.

As the silence stretched and minutes trickled by Bellatrix found herself wishing that she were more prone to the role of damsel in distress, because then she would be able to conveniently pass out instead of being forced to endure this suspense. But, having been born more for the role of villainess than the heroine - all Bella had was an annoying headache, not even a blinding one, and she was all too well to deal with all the unpleasantness that came when instead of lying once more she had to face up and offer some truth instead.

"Are you going to stay?" Bruce asked out of the blue glancing at her.

"Yes. For a while," she said, and she didn't ask if he minded, because this time it was her who didn't want to hear the answer. It is not like she couldn't turn on the spot and choose any other random spot on the world to hide out on, but she didn't _want_ to.

"Alright," Bruce said. "Alfred, back to the hotel, please."

Alfred nodded immediately, he glanced in the rear-view mirror at his passengers, before checking the side-mirror and restarting the car. “Very well, Master Bruce,” he said softly.

Bellatrix got Bruce's unspoken message rather well, she had been remarkably astute during the past week - usually she didn't bother picking up all the nuances of people's moods, but apparently pretending to be dead set even her touchy-feely senses on the edge. Or maybe it was the priesthood. "You're staying at a hotel?" she tried for small talk to distract herself from the annoying pounding in her left temple.

"I bought it. A couple of weeks back. I was bored," he explained shortly.

"Nice," she didn't judge. She'd brought a whole apartment building to have her very own quiet apartment. Bruce however didn't pick up his end of the thread of the conversation. The rest of the drive was quiet.

BBRBW

They had just walked into the penthouse and Alfred had just left the two of them alone when Bruce suddenly whirled around to face her and demanded, "So you're a flesh and blood person? Always had been?" The expression on his face was cold and closed-off. He addressed her with a tone in which Batman addresses thugs.

Bellatrix had been waiting for him to erupt for a while now, so while she reeled a bit from the sudden verbal attack, she wasn't surprised. "Well, I always told you I wasn't your imaginary friend,” she replied as calmly as she could.

"You are right on one account - friends just don't _do_ things like this,” his mask slipped for a moment as anger took the upper hand. He breathed deeply and brushed his hand through his hair in an attempt to gain control over his emotions again.

"Oh, come on. Things like what?” she demanded right back, annoyed. Her renewed headache made her weary and somewhat less patient than usual. Since she believed she had always done the best thing possible for the both of them, she found it hard to have to justify herself, especially since she didn't think her actions needed any justification.

"You lied to me, Bellatrix!" he growled at her.

"I never told you that I wasn't real,” she countered easily, much calmer than he, but slowly getting fired up as well.

"Some would argue that lies by omission are still lies,” he retorted, unyielding.

"Don't twist it all around,” she hissed. His anger ignited hers. “If you want to look at the base facts - you never asked me if I was real and I told you the truth, I am a witch. That's what I am and that's who I am and that's what I always will be first and foremost - _a witch_. And a bloody good one too."

"So, what we had - the whole screwing with my mind thing... Is that some kind of rite of passage among your people?" Bruce let his disgust show in his tone. He had trusted her. He had held her above all others. He had cherished her memory when he had thought her gone forever. He felt betrayed.

"Don't be an idiot. As far as I know our experience is unique,” Bellatrix replied sharply glaring at Bruce. How dare he insinuate that she'd spend so much time and effort, that she'd invest so much of herself in him just to play tricks?

"Experience, huh?" he asked, saying the word as if it was a particularly foul expletive. He glared right back at her, not yielding an inch.

"Damn it, we grew up together, Bruce. It means something to me,” she managed to throw the admission in his face like an insult, stripping the phrases from all sentiment.

"Yeah, I can feel that. I especially felt that eleven years ago when you told me I would never see you again,” he didn't try to contain the sarcasm that dripped from his words. “I thought so many things - I feared... And I never knew that you were right there like any other person,” he spoke the same way she spoke to him – twisting the meaning of the words with his tone – making the confession of his pain and fears sound like an accusation. “So, our growing up together - it meant exactly that to you... You couldn't be bothered to give me a phone call."

"Don't be so melodramatic," Bellatrix spat angrily. "My world was at war. For me - it is not over even now. There were those among my people who downright enjoyed killing people like you - those without magic. I couldn't in good conscience expose you to that, and being the idiot you are, can you honestly tell me you wouldn't have charged in head first?" her tirade was sharp and furious like the merciless edge of a combat knife. If she could have pointed at a Batman armour right now to prove her case and point, she would have.

"Oh, so all these years you were protecting me?" he didn't even try to conceal how ridiculous he found the notion.

"It was a part of my reasons, yes," she admitted freely.

"And I'm the idiot here?” he demanded, his rage rising once again. “Friends are supposed to tell each other the truth!"

"Same thing again. I didn't lie to you!" she took a step closer to him, her voice rising in frustrated anger.

"You also never told me what was really going on with you!" he stood his ground.

"It was for the best,” she said before turning away and walking further in the room, their standstill broken and her wish to fight gone. “I had to sort myself out,” she hated saying this. Bellatrix didn't enjoy admitting the power that Voldemort had had over her. “I didn't even know what I wanted then and if I'd chosen a different path - I didn't want you to be my first victim." If she had taken her heritage any other way… She had waged a war for them to have the change to have this conversation.

"Victim," Bruce drawled no longer mocking. He knew she could take him in a fight if she so chose, because she wouldn't hesitate to use magic or whatever other tricks she had. "Well I wouldn't want to be that,” he said slowly, letting his anger go. “What kind of scourge of the criminal underworld would I be then?"

She smiled lightly. "Have you calmed down then?" she asked in truth meaning if he was done with the argument as a whole.

"You still owe me a lot of explanations," he replied softly, no longer furious and feeling a little less betrayed, but still confused. Bruce wasn't going to let this one go as easily as he had done with everything else in their shared past.

"If I have to explain everything to you it'll take forever,” Bellatrix said honestly and not feeling that it was an exaggeration in the least.

"Good," Bruce stated, his expression finally turning softer and friendlier.

Bellatrix laughed shortly. “Indeed.” Maybe they were going to be just fine. After all, why shouldn't they be? Bruce was a logical, clever man; he surely saw that she was completely in the right. She smiled at him before moving further into the penthouse, heading for the corner with the best view adorned with low, minimalist armchairs in somewhat tacky black colour complimented by a sturdy glass table.

She made a move to sit down and was surprised when her midriff felt somewhat like her ribs were scraping against her insides. It was a challenge to keep the smile still easy and light on her face, but she managed it gracefully. Once down she laid a hand unobtrusively over her stomach and resolved not to get up in a while, even if the armchair had looked more comfortable than it was.

Bruce's eyes narrowed as he watched her. “Are you sure you're alright?” because as angry as he was with her, he in no way wanted her to be in pain, and she _had_ arrived with a bang to say the least.

She waved him off with the hand that wasn't holding on to her ribs. “Fine.”

He gritted his teeth and walked over to her; he glared down at her. “You're obviously in pain.”

She sighed. “If you are so perceptive, why did you ask how I was in the first place?” she stared right back, not bothered in the least by the fact that he had the higher ground.

“Of course, I'm the idiot for hoping you'd be candid with me,” his tone was short and clipping.

Bellatrix had just had enough. What was it with everyone these days? Emotions right, left and centre and no one could contain themselves, quite uncontrollably she cried out, exasperated, “What's with the melodrama?”

Bruce just shook his head. He worshipped her, but he just couldn't deal with her selfishness, not now. Apparently, she didn't understand, perhaps, had never understood, and might never get to the point where she might understand. How could she not see what was wrong?

“Very well,” he managed to growl through clenched teeth before taking a wilful breath and relaxing enough to say, “You're welcome to stay as long as you want,” before turning on his heel and heading out. Just out. He couldn't bear to be in her presence any longer.

Bellatrix closed her eyes for a moment to resist the urge to roll them which would just be utterly unbecoming of her upbringing and status. As it happened, she almost missed the sight as he stormed out of the penthouse. She wasn't worried in the least, she knew that he would come back; he always came back, usually within the first fifteen minutes. So, she shifted lightly to be able to rest better against the back of the chair and resigned herself to waiting a little.

When she glanced at the clock and saw that it had already been twenty minutes she began to worry slightly, not that she would admit to it. She reasoned to herself that he might just need a little more time before coming back, after all, he knew that she preferred it if he came back already calm and reasonable.

When it was half-hour since he'd left her mild worry escalated to a greater one and she worried he might have gotten himself into some kind of trouble, because surely, how angry he must be to still be out? She found that she couldn't stop staring at the clock, willing it to go backwards so that less time would have passed, so that he'd be already here, but the clock slowly ticked away unconcerned.

When Alfred came with tea, Bruce had been out for almost an hour and Bellatrix had been just about ready to go get him herself and kill whoever had delayed his return.

“Don't get up, Madam,” Alfred said setting the tea down on the table. He poured a cup for her. “Milk or sugar?”

“Neither,” Bellatrix replied watching the old man carefully. It was obvious he planned something with this and considering he had seen her Apparate she was certain she knew the general direction their conversation was about to take. She debated between Obliviating him or letting him keep her secret.

He prepared the tea so slowly, it grated on her nerves. She knew she had to deal with him sooner or later, and honestly, she respected the man who had raised Bruce, but right now she was coiled in her seat and getting more anxious by the minute. She wanted to get up and go get her foolish friend, who no doubt was in trouble.

Finally, Alfred handed her the tea and settled back into his chair with his own. “Drink your tea, Madam, and relax,” he advised.

Bella pursed her lips for a moment in a fleeting expression of annoyance, before she managed a light smile, “Thank you, Alfred, but I think I should go look for Bruce, he might be in trouble.”

“Young Master is often in trouble, nothing he can't handle as of yet,” he replied calmly, sipping his own tea.

She was neither placated nor convinced by his words. “Alfred...”

“Forgive me for interrupting,” he smiled serenely. “But you speak to me as if you've known me for years, so I don't think you'll mind if I return the familiarity, even though I don't think we've ever met before.”

“I've been careful,” she replied neutrally.

“Except today,” he supplied helpfully.

“Extraneous circumstances,” she said curtly.

“I'd imagine so,” he agreed. “To Apparate so carelessly, it would have to have been a special occasion, indeed.”

Bellatrix was nonplussed but struggled not to show it. In all the years she had known Alfred she had never ever suspected him of being magical.

“I can imagine what you're thinking, my dear, but don't worry, you haven't missed anything, because there is nothing to miss. I am not a Wizard.”

Understanding dawned on her. “Squib?”

“Rather unpleasant term is it not? But accurate nonetheless.”

“You are full of surprises, Alfred,” she said softly.

“As are you Madam,” he remarked. “Now,” his countenance became grave and serious. “What is your business with Bruce Wayne? From what happened today, I'm guessing you've known him for quite a while.”

She could Obliviate him and this conversation will never have happened. She didn't have to answer. In fact, she could Apparate to Rio de Janeiro and forget all about this herself, even if she would have to Obliviate herself, but... She frowned as she thought, not that she was seriously considering fleeing to Rio; she just liked to know that she had options, but come to think of it – she didn't, not really. Bruce was a huge part of her life and in a way so was Alfred, and even if she could ignore that principle on her own account – Alfred was an enormous part of _Bruce's_ life.

This was a mess. She was stuck in the middle of it, and the whole situation made her feel worse in a way Voldemort had never managed. There was no acceptable way out of this.

Decision made, she relaxed in the armchair for the first time since Alfred had entered the room. “I've known Bruce since I was seven years old...,” and she saw how tension also left Alfred as she began her tale. She hid her smile behind the rim of the teacup as she took a sip before continuing.

She didn’t tell Alfred everything, of course, but she told him enough. She told him about growing up with Bruce, she told him about how she had managed to stay unnoticed for so long, and she told him about the reasons behind her fight with Bruce today.

“So, you see why I think that something may have happened,” she said straining to sit up straighter.

Alfred set his cup on the table, grimacing. “You’re quite right on one account, and utterly wrong on another, Madam,” he said.

Bellatrix frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t,” he agreed. “Master Bruce can handle himself against anything the streets of Gotham can throw at him, I’m certain he is in no physical danger.”

“I sense a ‘but’,” she remarked.

“However,” he continued pointedly. “I’ve only seen him in such a state of mind once before.” Alfred paused.

Bellatrix motioned impatiently for him to explain further.

The set of Alfred’s mouth was hard. “It was seven years ago. Just before he went missing.”

Bellatrix set her cup on the armrest and clenched her fingers to prevent her hands from shaking. “You mean to tell me he has an hour head start on going AWOL?” she demanded leaning forward a little before stopping abruptly, gritting her teeth. Her insides _hurt._

Alfred was startled a little by her actions, “You need rest, Madam.”

Bella looked at him as if he was crazy. He must be, in any case. As if she had the inclination to wait seven _more_ years for Bruce to get his head straight. She might live to see her two hundredth birthday, but Bruce is a Muggle, and he didn’t have such luxury of time.

“If it is any consolation, I don’t believe that he will disappear for any such length of time, however time _is_ what he needs. As do you,” Alfred said placatingly.

“He’s never needed so much _time_ before,” she barely refrained from sneering.

“Well, his life has been upturned only once before.”

Bellatrix settled carefully back into her chair. It just felt so _wrong_ \- that Bruce was so angry with her; he had intentionally left for such an increasingly long time. Seven years ago as she had long ago found out, he had left because the courts of Gotham had decided to release Joe Chill from prison – she was sure he had felt betrayed by authorities on every possible level for releasing his parents' murderer. It couldn't be that in his eyes she was as bad as that... That petty criminal.

“He will be back,” she said with conviction that she didn’t feel.

“Quite so, Madam,” Alfred agreed before gathering the tea set and leaving her to her thoughts. They both knew that their conversation was not over, not by a long shot, but at least they had started it. Alfred didn’t trust Bellatrix after the stunt she’d pulled and Bella just generally didn’t let people get close for all that she had known Alfred for years, and their only common _interest_ wasn’t here.

BBRBW

Bellatrix woke frowning. She had sat in that awful armchair waiting for Bruce for hours. He hadn’t shown up for lunch, and he hadn’t showed up for dinner either. Alfred had brought her both, but she had eaten only dinner when the old man had sat down with her. She hadn’t been making a scene, honestly, she just hadn’t been hungry - and let’s be fair since everything soft she had on the inside felt like it had been scrubbed with an abrasive – it was a perfectly understandable position.

It had been nearly midnight when upon Alfred’s suggestion she let herself be led away to a spare bedroom to rest. She had thought about making a point, like the one Bruce was making, and staying put until he showed up, but common sense had won over.

So it was that she woke with a frown but feeling infinitely better than yesterday.

Utterly gracelessly she rolled out of the bed, and stood a little unsteadily, mainly because she was still drowsy and half-asleep. She rubbed her face heading for the adjoined bathroom, noticing on the way that the closet doors were open and not without reason since there appeared to be a whole wardrobe in there. It made her feel welcome despite her unresolved argument with Bruce yesterday, though she was under no illusion – she knew this was actually Alfred’s handiwork.

An hour later when she had finally made it from bath back to the closet she inspected the assortment of clothing before her and concluded that she and Alfred really had gotten off on the right foot. After all, he could have gotten her a random fall collection from any designer and considered his duty done, but before her were tasteful, _wearable_ excerpts from various collections from various seasons.

Glancing outside the window that made up the entirety of the eastern wall of her room, she decided that while overcast – the autumn day would most likely be somewhat warm. She decided on dark grey cotton tights and a (bit flimsy for October) beige dress with dark grey geometrical patterns and tasteful ruffles along the breast line. She pulled her thick hair up, leaving just a few strands out to frame her face. And so, she was done, she decided as she stared at herself in the mirror-door of the closet. She was perfectly presentable, she looked great – she could just walk out the door and out of the penthouse and do whatever the bloody hell she wanted for the day, it’s not like she cared whether Bruce was back or not.

Bellatrix scowled at herself, utterly disgusted at the inability to believe her own lie. She slipped her feet into a fitting set of high-heels and went to see about breakfast. And Bruce.

She hated feeling as if she had done something wrong, when intellectually she couldn't help but think that _she hadn't._

BBRBW

“Bruce, you have to explain,” she demanded as soon as she saw him. He was sitting in the kitchen on a bar stool, somewhat slumped over the table and nursing coffee.

He looked at her. Hard. As if he was looking at a stranger. “What do you want me to explain?”

“What is it that you're so upset about? What is it that you just can't deal with on your own? Because I don't understand and until I do – there's nothing I can do about it,” she said completely serious. “And frankly, it's quite obvious that you do want me to do something.”

“What makes you think I want you to do anything about it?”

“Don't be an idiot,” she snapped, sliding into the seat opposite to him without waiting for an invitation, hooking the heels of her shoes against the bar stool. “You know me. If you want something you have to ask for it – I'm not a mind reader.”

“Maybe it's something you have to figure out for yourself,” he said. “Maybe it's worthless any other way.”

“Codswallop.”

“Bellatrix, that is what bothers me – you just don't see what is wrong.”

“Well, that's why I'm asking, Bruce,” she said. “If I didn't know you better I'd say you're just playing coy.”

He took a deep breath. Could he really let his resentment rule over everything else? Could he just give up and try to forget her, because he didn't think he could deal with this? Should he be selfish and think of himself this time rather than her? After all, _she_ was selfish. She just didn't see so many things, and he always, always had to explain to get her to understand. If he gave in now, he knew that the next time would be no different – that it would always be like this. Did he really have the capacity to give that much to another person? Could he stand to be the one that gives, unfailingly?

He looked in her sweet, frustrated face and knew that if he refused to answer, if he pushed to make a point – he would succeed, she'd leave him be eventually. Somehow, he didn't think it would ever be worth it. He sighed, capitulating.

“Do you know that I've been questioning my sanity since I was eight years old? Since I first saw you? It has never been at the forefront of my mind, because, honestly – who would want to deal with that? But it always was there – at the back of my head. And in the end – I've been ready to accept that I'm insane rather than to admit that you're not real,” he closed his eyes for a moment to compose himself. “It's been plaguing me for years. _You_ have been plaguing me for years.”

Bellatrix grit her teeth hard enough to hurt her molars. She wanted to reach for him, maybe comfort him that way, but how could she if she was the problem that was the matter with him. She had asked him to explain everything to her, so the least she could do was not distract him and listen. Her fingers curled into fists, clenching hard, but her face was expressionless as she stared at him listening.

“And then you left... You just left. Do you have any idea...? You don't, obviously,” he sighed, rethinking how to phrase what he wanted to say. “When you left that night, saying that it was over, that we would never see each other again, and, yes, those might not have been your exact words, I won't argue, but don't you dare tell me you didn't know that that was the general meaning,” he stopped, waiting as if to see if she would protest, but she didn't. “So, you left – and to the best of my knowledge we would never see each other again. It was like you died. You were just gone – unreachable in any way.”

“And now – you just showed up, and you still didn't tell me the truth. I found out because of an accident, not because you chose to trust me, and that _hurts,_ Bellatrix. You say you don' t understand what I'm mad about – I'm angry, because I feel betrayed, and used, and like a complete fool for thinking that you might have cared enough for me to tell me, where instead you just left me without a second thought,” he leaned back a bit to increase the distance between them. “As for what I want you to do... I just don't know. I don't think there's anything you can do.”

Bellatrix took a deep, troubled breath, her ribs making a slight protest at the motion. “I see,” she said. “How about I tell you my side of the story? Everything,” she promised. “I won't leave out a thing.”

He looked at her, tired, “Will it change anything?”

She frowned, cocking her head to the side. “How should I know?” she demanded. “Just,” she changed her tone to a softer one. “There's just one thing I want you to know, and never doubt, and that's why I'll tell you everything. Let me try,” she asked. “Please.”

“Okay,” he agreed, nodding. After all, he'd already caved when he started talking. To protest now would be 'playing coy' as she had called it, and he had more self-respect than that.

BBRBW

Sirius had been nervous about his first press conference as the Minister for Magic, after all his relationship with the authorities had never been a brilliant one, and now _he was the authority_. It was a bit strange, but as he stepped on the platform he felt the responsibility of his position settling on his shoulders more profoundly than when he had signed the documents that decreed him as the Interim Minister.

With his back straight, and his bearing proud he went to the podium and told the press, his people, of the recent developments, and he didn't glance once in his notes. He was a Marauder after all. There was nothing he couldn't pull off. It went more smoothly than a detention with Filch up until the Q&A session started.

"What about the Order of the Phoenix, Minister Black? You are a member, are you not?"

"The Order is a group of like-minded, courageous individuals who were pro-active in the defence of their homes, friends and communities against the threat of Voldemort. However," Sirius took a deep breath. "However, the Order is not an institutional body, it has no governmental recognition nor institutional power."

"So, the Order of the Phoenix did not take part in the final battle?" the journalist was insistent.

"My predecessor, my dear cousin, would say that calling the events of that night a 'final battle' is far too dramatic for we took down one criminal, there are many others to apprehend, and undoubtedly many more will rise in time, that we will fight and defeat again.”

"Did Albus Dumbledore take part in the battle?" chirped a young witch from the middle of the crowd.

Sirius sighed, quietly. He had found it strange when Bellatrix hadn't wanted to rely on the Headmaster in any matter, but he had respected her wishes and even felt a certain admiration for her ability to stand alone, and make the Ministry an independent domain beholden to no one, but now that he had to inherit her legacy, he found it hard to not have anyone to whom to turn to.

He was the Minister. He stood alone. It was his duty to be strong.

"Albus Dumbledore is a Headmaster of Hogwarts as such he had no place on the battlefield," he replied shortly. The logic of his own answer surprised even him.

"But he's also the Great Warlock of the Wizengamot, yes?"

"The Wizengamot is a legislative body not a law enforcement one," he replied calmly. He knew that what he said made sense. It had made sense when Bellatrix had explained it to him and Lily, and James. It had made sense when Lily had helped him draft answers to the questions most likely to be asked at this meeting. "So, on this account also, Mr. Dumbledore had no business in participating in the attack." It still made sense. It was just hard to comprehend.

And he just didn't know how much sense it would make to the Wizarding population at large. Bellatrix had been a Minister for just over three years, less than a halfway in her ten-year term, and it had been far too little time to change the mindset of the people.

The Ministry had been created to unite, protect and control the Wizarding population, but even at the height of its power in the 18th century the people as a whole looked only to certain individuals - icons, pioneers of the time, and heroes or villains. So, Sirius understood how the notion that Bellatrix had introduced was so hard to comprehend.

He understood why the reporters were frowning or chewing the tips of their quills, he got why they couldn't see that the Order of Phoenix and Dumbledore had had no business being involved in that fight on that night.

After all, it fit so nicely, didn't it? The Dark Lord Voldemort and Dumbledore - the great wizard of the Light. Death Eaters and their polar opposites, the vigilantes of the Light - the Order of the Phoenix. It all had a poetic sense to it - light against dark, good against wrong, and in within this epic notion of world order, what did the Ministry have to do with it all?

Sirius cleared his throat. "Voldemort," he paused as people shuddered, and winced, "was a criminal. His actions were unlawful, and his followers are felons as much as he. The Ministry had proof of his guilt due to his attack on the main Ministry building in Whitehall henceforth," and he felt how his audience strained to pay more attention the more complicated and elaborate his speech became, "my predecessor issued an immediate action against them. The Ministry's duty is to protect the citizens of the British Wizarding community and as such the combined forces of the Auror division and Unspeakable department launched a pre-emptive attack on a known hideout of Lord Voldemort and eliminated the threat on..." he paused thinking back to that night. "On all of us, really," he finished with less grace than he would have liked, but he finished, at least.

"Just the Ministry then?" the reporter sounded somewhat dumbstruck by the idea.

"The Ministry for Magic has the highest authority in the British Wizarding society, its duty is to protect life, livelihood and the integrity of life of its subjects," he spoke with the passion of a convert.

Like most Sirius had idolised icons, and placed his hopes on Dumbledore, when in time as a member of the Order of the Phoenix in battles he had come to realize by himself that if you wanted something done - do it yourself; and then as the Head of Department of International Magical Cooperation by the example of other nations he had come to the understanding that both of his adopted concepts were wrong. Celebrities are just that - celebrities, they are not champions for law and justice, and neither is it that every man is for himself. It's the concept of community, a system - for without it they really are just a bunch of random, unrelated people, a crowd grasping at straws desperate to find something to believe in, without ideals or fealty to anyone or organization of any kind. Just a bunch of sheep.

And how easy they had been pushed around. A new Dark Lord at least twice a century.

"So, to answer your question, yes," he sneered, "it was just the Ministry."

"It's over then? You-Know-Who is dead?" a wizard from the back of the crowd called out.

Sirius nodded, swallowed and then spoke, "Yes. Minister Black killed Voldemort herself."

He looked straight into a camera as it took a picture. He wasn't sure if that would be the image that would end up in the newspapers, but he felt like emphasizing his point. He would not take credit for what she had done. He would not let her go quietly. If she wished to pretend to be dead, he would at the very least make sure that everyone knows that she is a hero. He would not ask for forgiveness for this.

“What about Minister Black? Is she really dead?”

Sirius was confused for a moment, until he pieced the question together. With him and Bellatrix sharing the same surname – it would get confusing real fast. “No,” he replied strongly. “As far as I know Lady Bellatrix Black is alive and whole,” Sirius had never promised to lie on her behalf in this matter.

“Then why is she no longer a Minister?”

Now that was a complicated question, was it not? He could not very well tell the whole truth, and what kind of lie would make the most sense? Lily had helped him come up with this one, specifically. 

“Lady Black took upon herself the position as the Minister for Magic with the intention to optimize the efficiency of the Ministry as well as to use her considerable power and resources to ensure the capture or elimination of the criminal known as Lord Voldemort. Since the terrorist group of Death Eaters has been disbanded and their leader killed – the terms of contract Lady Black signed upon taking the position as a Minister were fulfilled, and the resignation from her official position became valid and binding. Being the Head of a Family and a Minister for Magic are two independent and taxing positions, Lady Black felt that with the passing of Voldemort, it would be better to redirect her attention completely to her affairs as the Lady Black.”

“Where is she then?”

And that was a question he could not answer, because he honestly had no idea. Sirius flashed the crowd a winning smile before saying, “And with this I'm afraid the conference is over,” and ducking out quickly.

BBRBW

He treated her differently. Well, something was different at any rate, she was sure of that. And it wasn't anything she could write off on the fact that they hadn't spent so much time together in years. He was being, well, mysterious, and if there was one word, she'd never thought she'd describe Bruce Wayne with – that was that.

He had always been so transparent to her, it annoyed her that even now that they had talked, and, Merlin that had been a very long, and very exhausting conversation – there still was something that he wasn't telling and she wasn't guessing.

On the other hand – she had just been at the penthouse for three days, and maybe she was pushing things, but she found herself to be recklessly impatient just like when she was a child. Something about Bruce destroyed her ability to wait. She knew that Bruce was living some kind of double life – the black armour she had seen him in at the Wayne manor, the fact that he left in the evening and she rarely saw him before the next afternoon, but she hadn't asked him about it, and he hadn't volunteered any information by himself either.

Well, Bellatrix was the last person who would let Bruce get away with being a hypocrite, so in the evening, after dinner when he was about to leave as he did every night, she rose from the table with him, grabbed her purse and followed him out not bothering to get a coat.

He looked at her oddly as they stood together waiting for the personal elevator to rise from the basement where it'd been left when Alfred went out. “You're going somewhere?” he asked, confused.

“Oh, yes,” she nodded her head, and put her purse on her shoulder, across her chest. It was a small bag on a delicate chain, but then again she didn't have much to put in it – just her wallet and wand, and she could even do without the money as long as she had her wand.

“Where?” he glanced at his wristwatch – it was getting late, and it was already dark, since it was autumn. He didn't doubt she could take care of herself, but at the same time, he didn't like the idea of her wandering around Gotham at night. Batman was working hard, but crime was still on the high rise.

“I've no idea,” she smiled brilliantly before stepping into the elevator.

He frowned as he followed her. “What do you mean – you don't know?”

“Well,” she smiled at herself in the mirror. “Where are you going?”

“There's some business I have to attend to,” he replied vaguely.

“Interesting?”

“Not particularly.”

“Where?”

“In the docks,” he replied without thinking. “Wait...”

“There you have it,” she beamed at him.

“No,” he said instantly.

“Yes,” she argued.

“No,” he said strongly.

She didn't deign to reply to that again.

“Bella, no,” he repeated empathetically. “It's not... It's not a place for you.”

She bit her tongue to refrain from snorting. She had fought Voldemort. She was a priestess of Dark Magic. What the hell had he gotten himself into that he thought she couldn't handle? Granted, he had no tangible idea who Voldemort was despite (or perhaps exactly _because of_ ) the way she explained it to him, but still.. The thought that there was anything she should be legitimately scared of was plain ridiculous.

The lift opened in the basement, on the private floor where Bruce's parking space was. He moved to exit first, but whirled around on the threshold, blocking the way and slammed his hands sideways to prevent the doors from closing. “Bellatrix,” he sounded perfectly calm and reasonable. “If you want to go out, and have some fun, you're more than welcome. Take any car. I'm surprised that you've stayed up there for as long as you have, but you're not coming with me.”

“Why ever not?” she asked, curious.

“Because it's dangerous. There are some things I must do exactly tonight and you just can't come with me.”

She narrowed her eyes. She could press and he'd take her with him, but most likely not to where he had intended to go in the first place. Or she could just follow him. Then again, they'd agreed to no more deception and the trust between them was still fragile. Bellatrix didn't think that this was a good time to play games.

“Let's be honest – there's no way you can really stop me from coming, but let's make a deal. I'll let you go now and do whatever important thing it is you have to do – and I swear I won't follow, if you promise that tomorrow when you come back you'll give me the royal tour about this whole secret thing you've got going on, deal?” she asked. “We agreed on the full disclosure policy, did we not?” she reminded him.

He grit his teeth. He would take her offer, he already knew that, but that didn't mean he liked it. It's not that he didn't trust her with his secret, there was just about no one except Alfred that he trusted more, even despite the recent discoveries, but he just didn't think she was as invincible as she believed she was. He had seen her hurt over the last few days and granted she had healed astonishingly fast, but she _had_ been hurt which meant that she _could_ be hurt, and God forbid – killed.

“Fine,” he agreed through clenched teeth.

“Wonderful,” she grinned. “Now, I hope you weren't going to take the Lamborghini. I refuse to be cooped up at the penthouse for one more evening.”

He moved away from the threshold allowing her to exit the elevator with a grand gesture. “Go ahead.”

She smiled, took the keys from the key set on the wall by the elevator and left without looking back at him. True to her word, she wasn't going to follow him tonight. She could wait a few hours before grilling him about his secret, there were more important things. This was an exercise in trust. It was painfully apparent that both of them needed it.

BBRBW

The next morning, she was up long before Bruce. She had a cup of tea with Alfred, watched the news channel - smirked when she saw the BBC footage of her apartment building, well the ruins of it, anyway.

It had burned down to the ground, all attempts to stop the fire before it had consumed the skyscraper had completely failed. The reporter said that the fire had finally died down only late in the previous night after three days. They called it a miracle that no surrounding building had been damaged. The sweeping, helicopter shot of London skyline looked dreary with the smoke clouds above the city.

She even made a belated call to Adrian to assure him that she was unharmed, though she didn't doubt that her father had already informed him that the fire was most likely only her latest attempt at setting up the pretence of her death.

She was leafing through the printed catalogue of all the services the hotel offered (which was rather pathetic), considering visiting the SPA (there was hardly anything worse) while Bruce was still lounging in his bed; when he finally showed up and saved her from a day of useless beauty exercises.

"You did that on purpose," she glared at him, but her tone was playful.

His eyes were still bleary with sleep, he yawned. "Definitely," he agreed, smiling lightly.

"Alfred made you breakfast," she pointed to the plate near her.

Bruce made a grab for the cup of coffee and released it immediately as it scalded his fingers. He hissed in pain.

"Sorry!" Bellatrix pointed with her wand and lifted the warming charm she had set on the meal. "I kept it warm."

"Thanks," Bruce managed as he showed his hand in the sink under a spray of cold water.

"You always start with a cocktail anyway, how was I supposed to know you'd make a grab for the hottest thing on the plate?" she grumbled under her nose, but moved off her stool to go to him.

"Show me the hand," she asked extending her own. When he placed his hand, palm up, in hers she winced a little. "That looks like it hurts."

"Kinda does," he agreed dryly, wincing.

"Don't be such a baby," she retorted before casting a mild healing charm that immediately soothed the burn and healed the skin.

He looked at his hand in wonder before flexing his fingers, clenching them into a fist and back open again. The redness was gone as if it had never been there. "You've healed me before," he said, more intending to ask.

"That time was different," she explained. "I wasn't sure what was wrong with you, so I cast then a general field charm - you most likely noticed that in the end it didn't heal you much. This is something else - your hand will be fine," she assured him. "It's a small thing, I'm actually not much of a healer."

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

"You're welcome," she grinned. "As if I was going to let you fake an injury so you wouldn't have to give me a tour today."

"Your motives never cease to amaze me," he bantered back. "You might want to change, though," he said as he took the cocktail, and downed it in few, large gulps.

"Why?"

"Because we're taking the motorcycle."

"No," she looked aghast.

"It's more inconspicuous," he shrugged.

"I could swear you're doing this to me on purpose," she scowled as she walked past him.

"You bet I am," he replied lightly as she left.

The thing is - she had never been on a motorcycle. They reminded her too much of brooms and while she could fly one perfectly fine, she just didn't see what all the rage about them was. They were uncomfortable, inconvenient, slow compared to both Apparating and Floo travel, and even Portkeys, and one always arrived at the destination looking like a mess.

Well, the only point of consolation was that she was certain that at least this motorcycle was unlikely to fly.

BBRBW

“Well...” he drawled finishing his speech on the whole issue. “What do you think?” it came out less self-assured than he would have liked.

Bellatrix let her gaze sweep once more over the whole underground garage that had been retrofitted into a base of sorts. Her gaze lingered on the Batman suits before returning to Bruce himself.

She was, frankly, astounded. He had accomplished so much in so short a time. He had taken what he'd learned and applied it in life with phenomenal results. The way he used his own company and its resources, the way he managed to establish a dual identity – it was ... Amazing. And it reminded her of her own tactics in her war with Voldemort which made the whole thing all the more admirable.

When she'd left him – he had been a boy, but before her now stood a man. A self-made man.

“Brilliant,” she said earnestly. “You are absolutely brilliant.”

He let out a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding. “Well, that's a relief.”

She frowned questioningly at him.

“You did make your opinion on vigilantes quite clear when you spoke of that Headmaster of yours,” he reminded her.

“Oh,” she waved her hand dismissively. “You're taking it out of the context,” she assured him. “They were _Dumbledore's_ vigilantes under _my watch_ as the Minister, I disliked them on a principle, not to mention that they were fairly useless anyway.”

“So...” he didn't want to ask if she minded, because at this point he could not stop being Batman any more than he could consciously deny her anything. But he had to know. Being Batman was as much part of him now as being a witch was part of her.

Bellatrix cocked her head to a side and frowned at him when he fell silent suddenly. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

Bruce didn't like how nervous he felt. He had thought that that was a part of himself he had conquered and stored away. The last person to whom he had revealed who he was – was Rachel. And her rejection had hurt more than he wanted to admit, because next to Bellatrix she was his oldest friend, and what's more – he had never had to doubt the reality of her existence, there was certain stability that Rachel embodied that drew him to her. And while he hadn't been as romantically interested in her as she had thought him to be – it still hurt that she turned him down not because of who he was as a man, but because of the image he chose to show others. In a way it seemed surprisingly shallow from a girl of her morals.

“Rachel knows that I'm Batman. She found out during the night the Manor burned down,” he said. “She... She said she can't be with me, because of the mask I show others, and she didn't mean the Batman.”

Well, here was a surprise she hadn't been expecting. Bruce had _wanted_ to be with Rachel? That dumb, plain girl who had the sophistication of a wild child raised by chimpanzees? Bellatrix had, of course, known that he was fond of the wench, but... “And?”

“I have to know – can you deal with this? With who I am?”

Bellatrix blinked, feeling a bit taken aback. “I think I already told you that I think it's amazing,” she said slowly, uncomprehending what was it that he wanted to hear. “Are you fishing for complements?” her gaze narrowed.

“No,” he denied a bit exasperated. “It's a different face I show in public. I act differently. Since you're quite real and seem to be fond of my penthouse I assume you're going to be around. I just want to know what to expect.”

She knew his feelings would be hurt if she laughed. She knew it, so she bit down on her bottom lip. It was amusing that he thought she would ever care what the public opinion of him was. On other hand it made her terribly angry at Rachel. What kind of friend ditches their friend just because their _public image_ isn't quite what they'd like it to be?

“Bruce,” she started seriously, walking over to him, and holding him by his shoulders to emphasize her point. “I know _you_ so I couldn't care less what others think,” she said. “You do remember that I consider most of the people to be irreversibly moronic? I practically expect them to get everything wrong.”

He moved so fast; she didn't notice it until he was already hugging her. And it wasn't a light, friendly hug – it was a big, bear hug that she almost felt lost, with him seemingly all around her. She hugged him back strongly, silently vowing to herself to make Rachel suffer the next time she saw her.

BBRBW

Once she knew his secret, things seemed to fall into place. A tentative trust was renewed between them and both were careful to nurture it. The gulf of the last eleven years that they had spent apart was vast, but they shared common roots - matching eleven years of growing up together. They had seen each other change from children into teens into young adults. Now they had to learn who the other had become as an adult.

Bruce had always been one of the few people she could talk easily to, and with a glass of wine in hand, after dinner, she often found herself telling stories that she might not share with anyone else. Tales of her life that seemed inconsequential or boring in the larger picture, but he listened with such attentiveness - like he wanted to be part of the life she'd lived in however small a part, that she could not deny him that. She told him about how she'd hunted for her first apartment. About how she'd studied Economics at Oxford. She told him about how she'd travelled Europe as a Muggle in her study years.

He told her about the years he'd spent wandering the world without any money in his pockets. He told her about being broke and in prison, and lost, so lost. He told her about finding Ra's Al Ghul and a purpose.

She told him about her mother's passing. About her sisters. She shared her life with him as she had never done with anybody else. Just like she had done it eleven years ago.

Weeks passed as they tried to cram years into days. It was an easy, idyllic rhythm where they found themselves drawn to each other, testing, and strengthening the bond they shared. She found herself actively seeking out his company for no other reason than just to be together and his eyes always lit up when he saw her. They revelled in this newfound reality where they both could coexist freely. Their time before had always been conditional and limited. The certainty of what was real and what not, had always been a blurred line. Now - there were no doubts left. It was all real.

BBRBW

She wasn't sure what the time was, but she was certain that it must be evening already. She could go over to the computers and verify her suspicion, but it wasn't all that important to her, besides her attention was captured by the suits. He had several, but all were similar in design and function. She dragged her finger along the outline of chest on the breast plate of the armour wondering how strong the material was, really.

“Bruce,” she spoke up not turning her attention away from the suit.

“Mhm,” he replied looking up from where he'd been studying building and street plans.

“I want to test something. Can I have one of these?”

“Sure,” he agreed easily. “What do you want to do?”

“Everything,” she replied off-handedly. “By the way, who makes these for you?”

“Wayne Enterprises,” he replied frowning.

“I mean the brains behind the design not the production mechanism,” she specified, still pre-occupied with the armour. Her nimble fingers explored how all the plates fitted together, looked for weak spots. From the side, it might look like she was caressing the suit.

“Lucius Fox.”

“Hmm,” Bella hummed to herself. She remembered meeting the man at Bruce's birthday party. “I might have to talk to him.”

Now she had all of Bruce's attention. “You're planning something.”

She finally turned around to grin at him. “We'll see. I won't promise anything just yet.”

Bruce looked at her with suspicion, still frowning, but eventually decided to let it go. “It's late. I have it on good authority that the Scarecrow is having a meeting with one of the mob bosses tonight. I hope to get at least one of them.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Oh, no,” he protested immediately. “I know that look.”

“What?”

“I've given you the tour. I've told you everything. But on this - you're not coming with me.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” she said striking a pose with her hands on her hips.

“You promised you wouldn't follow me!”

“ _That was then!_ " she replied, her eyebrows high in protest.

“It's preposterous. You're not coming.”

She huffed, annoyed, throwing her hands in the air. “It's not like I want to be your sidekick. I'm not going to interfere – I just want to see you in action, that's all. I promise to stand by at a side and be quiet and invisible. Nobody will even know I'm there.”

“A stray bullet won't give a damn whether you're visible or not.”

“I'll conjure a shield!” she replied exasperated.

“And how many bullets can that shield of yours stop?” he asked scowling.

“Well, more than that suit of yours, I'm sure,” she hissed right back.

“Don't take that tone with me,” he nearly growled.

“Now you don't like my tone?” she demanded.

“It's the _I-defeated-a-Dark-Lord_ tone, you've been using it quite often these past few weeks,” he replied staring right back at her and not backing down an inch. “And like I already told you – there will be automatic weapons, drug dealers and a mob boss none of which you've been up against before.”

“But I'm not going to go up against anyone – I'll just watch,” Bellatrix insisted.

“If you want to watch something so badly – why don't you just rent a movie?” he asked putting up the last effort at a protest.

Bellatrix grinned, knowing that he had caved. “Because I want to watch _you._ ”

He glared at her. “You'll stay in the car,” he said. “I mean it. Not a step outside.” Why did he feel that this was a classically bad idea on every possible level?

She nodded happily. “I swear.”

BBRBW

He parked on the roof on a building just a floor shorter than the parking lot. As she watched him, she concluded that the armour wasn't very flexible, he had trouble moving his head, and twisting. The stiff way he held himself however had a certain intimidating charm.

He set the settings on the computer before repeating for what felt like the hundredth time, “The car knows what it has to do. Stay in here and don't touch anything.”

“I'm not a moron,” she replied. “I won't bring a stick to a gunfight,” she didn't doubt that her magic could protect her, but she knew all too well that a battlefield (and this _was_ going to be a battle, in a manner of speaking) was not the best place for unexpected surprises so she fully intended to do as she had promised – to stay in the car. The last thing she wanted to do was to endanger Bruce.

“Okay then,” his voice came out in a growl as he activated the voice scrambler near his throat.

“One question though,” she began before he opened the hood to exit. “The computer – is it protected against EMP?”

Bruce watched her for a moment, and she couldn't tell whether he was frowning or not with his mask on. “Yes,” he answered finally.

“Great,” she chirped.

He left the car to go position himself at the parking lot. She got comfortable in her seat and cast a one-way see-through spell on the front shields. The thermal and infra-red cameras that the machine had just couldn't get her the viewing quality she desired.

This wasn't a whim or a fancy, entertainment or a joke. This was completely serious, and she was here, because she wanted to see what Bruce was up against. More than anyone she knew that there were a thousand ways to tell a story, but the only way to truly know was to witness it.

The first impression she got when the fighting broke out was that it was loud. Incredibly, unbearably loud. The gunshots rang in her ears. The explosions nearly blinded and deafened her. She was glad to be behind the thick titanium reinforced shields even if she could see through them as if they were glass.

Wizarding battles could be brutal, but the one in front of her was so very different on just about every level. Enemies didn't have to get in close. Most of the shots fired went wild, but nobody seemed to care for accuracy as they substituted it with quantity. It was hard to tell who was fighting whom, as people were running, hiding, ducking under fire, and still fighting each other. It was a mess.

There was no predictable sequence to the events. Everybody was fighting everybody all at once and every bullet fired had the potential to be lethal. In a Wizarding battle you could choose to take a curse to be able to curse back – there was no such option here. Besides curses were all much easier to notice – one could even avoid them given enough room and agility, but bullets... She didn't see them fly; she just saw people dropping like flies.

And through the fire and confusion, Bruce found his way easily. She saw how he picked them off one by one, unhindered by the commotion about him. Bellatrix had found it strange to think of the awkward boy she'd known as teenager as a hero, much less to think of the friend who denied her nothing as a warrior both powerful and lethal. That is why she had wanted to be here tonight, because she wasn't the only one who had grown up in the past eleven years, and it was a truth that she needed to be brought home fast.

All in all, the fight was over surprisingly soon. When she saw Bruce heading back to the car, she cast a chameleon spell on herself so that her presence wouldn't be noticed and cancelled the see-through spell on the shields.

As soon as the top was closed again, Bruce spoke gruffly, “I sincerely hope you're still here.”

“Turn that thing off, you sound like a wounded bear,” she replied shaking the charm off herself. “You're not injured, are you?” she asked turning to watch him intensely. She couldn't discern anything on his black outfit.

He sighed, though it came out sounding like a growl, before turning off the voice simulator. “Nothing serious,” he replied, turning off the autopilot and taking control of the car.

“I'll just agree to disagree for the moment,” Bellatrix wasn't convinced, but knew that this wasn't the time and place to continue that line of conversation. She was certain she could at least half-way fix him once they'd be back at his temporary underground base. She was quiet for the rest of the way.

BBRBW

She had finally wrestled the helmet off his head while the man in question browsed through his virtual intelligence network. She was about to berate him for being an uncooperating ingrate when he suddenly spoke, “There's one more thing I have to do before getting out of this.”

Bellatrix looked at him incredulously. “You're bleeding from some place I can't really tell while you're in this... Contraption. And it took me a quarter of an hour just to get the helmet off, and now you want to pop out for a tea for a moment?”

“There's been a break-in at a bank. A suspected mob bank. I have to meet Lieutenant Gordon and see what he knows,” he explained taking the helmet from her hands.

“And this can't wait?”

“No,” he replied. “It's late so it'll be easier for me to slip in and out unnoticed – technically the cops should be trying to arrest me, not work with me.”

She pursed her lips, certain that he would go no matter what she said, not that she had any real argument besides that he was hurt. “Fine,” she agreed. “Do you have any footage of the bank?”

“Yes,” he said not really understanding where the conversation was heading. “I have access to the security cameras.”

“Good,” she stated. “I'll take us there and back. That way we'll be back sooner.”

“How?”

“Just show me the footage and I'll take us there. Preferably choose a secluded place...”

“Well, the least crowded place will probably be the vault. There are no cameras there, though. I have pictures if that helps,” he said pulling the helmet back on.

Bellatrix nodded. “That'll do. I've worked with less.”

Bruce brought the pictures up on screen from a secure folder, and Bella studied them for a moment before deciding that she had the layout pieced together in her mind as good as it was going to get. “I'll disillusion myself, meaning, I'll be invisible, but hold on to my hand, and you won't lose me,” she said pulling him from the chair to stand up. She pressed against the side of him that wasn't bleeding and concentrated on the destination.

Bruce blinked and found himself in the vault. The journey had been short if not entirely pleasant. He was half-way convinced that he had lost at least a part of his insides on the trip. The feeling of being squeezed through the pinhead of a needle made him want to shudder, but theatrics were a powerful weapon and seeing how Gordon and his detective jumped, made Bruce realize that this method of travel certainly had its advantages.

BBRBW

It was afternoon and Bruce had already left with Alfred for a meeting at the Wayne Tower. Bella was alone in the basement structure at the docks. She had popped for a moment into the penthouse for a shower and a change of clothes, but hadn't stayed to rest longer, because as she had heard the previous night at the bank – Bruce was planning on going after the entirety of Gotham's mob which meant that there was little time, and in her opinion – his armour was woefully inadequate for the risks he was taking.

She was even more spurred on by the fact that she hadn't managed to heal him properly when she had finally gotten him out of the suit. Oh, she had charmed away most of the bruises, but the bigger ones stayed, and as for the dog bite – she had managed to make it a lighter injury than it had been, but that was not nearly good enough. She did not relish the need to brush up on her meagre skills as a healer, because of his tendency to get hurt, all the time. It was, simply speaking, absolutely unacceptable. Watching him sew himself up had been especially hard.

So, Bellatrix abandoned the idea of sleep and stood in the bunker poking at the clever invention. The suit was definitely impressive, but Bruce was putting himself in situations for which the armour most likely hadn't been designed. She knew that he intended to speak to Mr. Fox today about making the suit lighter and more flexible – he'd sketched her the idea of the design to explain, but she also suspected that such a request would take from the endurance of the material in trade-off. That is, if he were to use any other material but dragon-hide.

She whipped out her wand and rapidly cast a series of hexes at the suit. Fire brushed off of it, a bludgeoning hex left no mark at all, though whether that was because the suit was empty, she could only guess at the moment, slashing hex cut half-way through the breastplate and bone-breaking curse also had no effect. It appeared that only a spell that imitated a weapon had an effect as the rest bounced off the same as fire had. The question of course remained whether the same principles would also apply to the body within the suit, but she could find that out later. Bruce after all wasn't going up against wizards, but against men with guns and explosives.

She Apparated back to the penthouse and started looking for Alfred. She called for the elder man, wondering around the suite until she found him on the balcony. “Alfred!”

“Madam,” he greeted her with smile.

“Bellatrix,” she said remembering that through all the time she had already been here she hadn't bothered to tell him her name, and though she didn't doubt that he knew it – Alfred was apparently too polite to call her by that until she introduced herself properly. “Bellatrix Black,” she said telling him her Family name rather than her mother's which she used as an alias.

“Indeed? Am I correct in assuming however that you would prefer _'Rosier'_ were we in polite company?”

She grinned. “You miss nothing, Alfred.”

“Thank you, Miss Black,” he didn't deny the accusation. “Will you join me for tea?”

Bellatrix nodded, sitting down opposite to him. She waited until he had poured her a cup before speaking. “I'd like to know what you think about Lucius Fox,” she said.

“In what manner?” he replied with a question.

“I know that Bruce trusts him,” she said after she'd taken a sip. “He makes Bruce's suits. But I'd like to know your personal opinion on him,” she explained.

“Such a strange predicament we are in, Miss Black. You seem to trust me implicitly while I barely know you at all,” Alfred commented seriously. “I would hate to disappoint.”

“ _Implicitly_ would be pushing it a bit far, but I do have a great degree of trust in your abilities. See, you may have known me for barely a week, but I've known you for most of my life hence I trust your judgement.”

Alfred nodded. “Lucius is a very old, dear friend of mine. I hold him in the highest esteem.”

Bellatrix set her cup down, reaching for a biscuit. “Does he know about magic?”

“I have on occasion confided in him regarding my heritage,” Alfred admitted uneasily. “Why do you ask?”

She munched on the cookie. “Dragon-hide,” she replied when her mouth was empty. “Among other things.”

“For the armour?” Alfred questioned, frowning.

“Yes,” she answered gravely, thinking back on the previous night. She leaned forward in her seat so that the shadow that the parasol cast would fall on her face as well. “Last night he took me with him on one of his... _Raids_ ,” she confessed, troubled. “The sheer destructive power...,” it wasn't often that she found herself without words, but the memory of the noise and heat, and flashes of light – it affected her more than she wanted to let on.

Magic could be lethal, but in all her experience it did not have the potential for sheer annihilation as Muggle weapons. Living mainly in the Muggle world since she'd been seventeen – Bellatrix of course knew of Muggle weapons, but being a witch she had never had more than a cursory interest in them, and before previous night she had never witnessed any of them in live action. There just were no shootings or explosions at board meetings or social gatherings for the rich and powerful.

“He _needs_ more protection,” she said empathetically.

Alfred leaned forward, reaching for her hand, and squeezing it comfortingly. Bellatrix took a deep breath, surprised that the gesture indeed calmed her a little, reminding her of how her father comforted her as a child, taking away all the troubles. She smiled tentatively.

BBRBW

Bellatrix walked through the entrance hall of Wayne Enterprises as if she owned the building, which for a change – she did not. She had decided that a public appearance, might be in order at this point, after all, who in America outside of Washington would recognize her as the former British Minister for Magic? Besides Alfred had absolutely refused to Apparate and her meeting with Lucius Fox was bound to be smoother if he was there.

The administrators on duty and security guards recognized Alfred so they didn't ask any questions as they issued her a guest security pass and let them proceed to the elevators.

“Do you know where he might be? He said he had a meeting this afternoon, but I didn't ask for specifics,” she asked frowning at the elevator buttons designating different floors.

“I believe the 30th floor is the one where the conference is being held, but alternatively we will no doubt sooner or later find Mr. Fox at his office,” Alfred supplied.

“Let's try the conference room first, maybe we'll catch Bruce,” she decided, pressing the button for one of top floors.

On the 30th floor as they exited, they were nearly run over by a flustered accountant. Bella side stepped him avoiding collision, and the man floundered for a moment before regaining his footing.

“I'm sorry, I didn't see you there,” he apologized. “The meeting is over, by the way,” he added since the conference room was the only thing on this floor, aside from bathrooms.

“Excellent,” Bellatrix replied rather snobbishly not bothering to give the man a second look.

“You must be Alfred Pennyworth,” the accountant threw her a side-ways glance before stretching his hand to Alfred. “I'm Coleman Reese.”

“Pleasure,” Alfred smiled politely, shaking the other man's hand. “If you'll excuse us,” he said noticing Bellatrix's impatient glare.

“Of course,” Reese replied, his expression tight with righteous indignation. He had joined the Wayne Enterprises because the company was a giant in the world economics, but the higher he climbed in the corporate ladder, the more he realized that the man at the very top was nothing more than a spoiled brat sitting prettily on the inheritance left to him by visionaries before him.

And now it seemed that Bruce Wayne had his butler bring his whores to the company to keep him entertained after meetings. It was beyond insulting. He stabbed angrily with his finger at the lift call button furious at the order of the world where men like Bruce Wayne had everything and _he_ had to work for all the little that he did have.

BBRBW

They were immediately noticed by the only other two people in the room as soon as they entered. Bellatrix grinned wolfishly. “I do apologize for dropping in so unannounced, but there is something I absolutely must discuss with you,” she said addressing Lucius Fox.

Surprised to say the least, Lucius Fox was still the ultimate businessman and gentleman. “A pleasure to see you again, Miss Rosier,” he replied, remembering her from when they had met at Bruce's birthday party.

“I seem to be missing something,” Bruce said, his gaze darting between all of them.

“Miss Black has some suggestions to improve your wardrobe, sir,” Alfred moved to explain.

“Miss Black?” Lucius asked, frowning.

“Bella?” Bruce questioned.

“My Family name,” she answered first to Lucius before turning to Bruce. “You let me play with one of your suits and I had some ideas. No, don't ask me what kind – it'll be a surprise, if it'll work at all, which is why I wanted to have a chat with Mr. Fox.”

“Lady Bellatrix Black is a Witch,” Alfred answered to the unspoken question of his old friend. “But it is quite alright.”

“Ahh,” Lucius drawled as understanding dawned.

“Wait! You know who she is?” Bruce directly asked Alfred. “You never said anything!”

“To be fair I did meet the Lady for the first time five days ago, Master Bruce.”

“Alfred recognized who I was straight away, he comes from a magical family though he is not magical himself,” Bellatrix supplied when Alfred didn't seem to be inclined to continue.

“Why didn't you tell me that you also knew?” Bruce asked, astonished that Alfred had kept such a thing from him.

“It never seemed to be the right time, sir,” Alfred replied completely composed, though his clasped hands betrayed his emotions.

“You and me,” Bruce said, shaking his head. “We need to talk.”

“Perfect,” Bellatrix exclaimed before anyone else could speak. “You two – go talk, while Mr. Fox and I have a little conference of our own.”

Bella and Bruce met halfway round the enormous table and as they exchanged, she grasped him by the elbow stopping him for a second. She wanted to say something along the lines of _'go easy on him'_ meaning Alfred. In hindsight it was rather unfortunate that the whole situation had happened the way it had happened and in no small way it was because of her.

“I'm not angry,” he said, answering her before she could figure out how to poise the question. “Curious and a bit disappointed, maybe.”

She nodded before releasing him.

“So, Miss Black, what exactly are your suggestions?” Lucius addressed her once they were alone.

Bellatrix sat down in the nearest chair. “Did Bruce already tell you what he'd like done to the suits?”

Lucius nodded affirmatively.

“Am I correct in assuming that increased flexibility will reduce the durability of the armour?”

“Yes,” Lucius replied, sitting down beside her and showing her Bruce's sketches. “To make the armour lighter and more flexible the material will have to be thinner and more divided into plates. All the seams will be places of vulnerability.”

“What do you know about dragon hide?” she asked. “Alfred admitted that he's told you about the Wizarding world.”

“I know it's durability is legendary,” he replied. “I've tried to acquire it, but I've learned that it's extremely rare item even among your kind, Miss Black.”

“It is,” Bellatrix agreed. “But that's not a problem,” she continued. “The question is whether you could integrate the dragon hide with the original material of the suits, because dragons are magical and such things tend to interfere a bit with technology.”

“The interference is not unlike that of an EMP am I correct?” he asked leaning back in his chair.

“Yes.”

“I can find a way around it,” he said. “Though I wonder why you would want to integrate it, surely a full armour from dragon-hide would be better?”

Bellatrix shook her head. “No, you see dragon-hide is a material that can withstand just about any _magical_ means of attack, and it might hold against an explosion because that is by nature mostly fire, or knives since the hide is thick, but it is not made to hold against bullets. I don't think even the hide off a dragon's back could withstand concentrated automatic fire – titanium reinforced plates that you're using now are far more effective.”

“So, you're thinking about integrating the dragon-hide for the seams to remove the vulnerability, but retain flexibility,” he specified massaging his temple as he thought.

“Yes, the hide off a dragon's wings would be the best, I believe. The skin there is made to be flexible yet strong to withstand high winds and pressures.”

“Very well, if you can get the material, then I will make sure to make it fit with Mr. Wayne's armour,” Lucius said.

“I will have it by tonight,” Bellatrix replied rising from the chair.

Lucius rose with her extending his hand to shake hers. “A pleasure meeting you, Miss Black,” he said watching her through narrowed eyes, wondering about her motivations and interest in Bruce Wayne.

She grinned, shaking his hand. “Likewise, Mr. Fox.”

BBRBW

As it turned out Bruce was waiting for her downstairs in the lobby. “Where's Alfred?” she asked as soon as she was close enough.

“He had a call from the contractors that are rebuilding the manor – they seem to have misplaced a column. He went to take a look.”

She nodded. “So, you're my designated chauffeur then?” she asked, grinning.

“It appears to be so,” he said offering her his elbow, and she happily hooked her arm with his. “Did you find out what you wanted to know with Lucius?” he asked as he led them to the door.

“Yes,” she answered shortly. “It does mean that I will have to leave this evening,” she said tentatively as they exited the building into the chilly autumn afternoon.

“For how long?” he asked, his good mood evaporating. He should have known that the arrangement they had established over the past week wouldn't last.

“A few hours, give or take, depending on the time difference,” she replied. “I'll be back by tomorrow morning definitely,” Bellatrix assured him just as a young man arrived with Bruce's car.

“Well then,” he said rising his voice as he headed for the driver's side while the concierge rushed to hold the door open for her. “If I can't have you for dinner might I have you for lunch?”

Bellatrix laughed. “You may take me _to_ lunch,” she replied in the same playful manner.

Bruce took her to Criterion for lunch after which they decided to take stroll around the more cultural and sophisticated district of Gotham. Bruce was surprised when Bellatrix admitted that she had not actually seen much of Gotham, and that the only places she really knew where the Wayne tower and the Opera house. She had done some cruising around few nights ago, but ultimately had relied on the navigational system and landmarks that were visible from the car.

“Well, we must rectify that immediately,” he told her energetically, leading her towards the Gotham theatre on the opposite side of the street. They perused the painted posters of the offered performances, until Bellatrix spotted a familiar face in one of the advertisements. She pulled Bruce with her to take a closer look.

“Can't believe it!” she muttered.

“What is it?” he asked, curious.

“It's...”

“Bellatrix! What an unexpected surprise!” cried a voice near the side-entrance to the theatre.

Bella recognized the person belonging to the voice immediately even before she saw her, even though they hadn't seen each other for quite a while. She unhooked her arm from Bruce and met the other woman half-way returning her hug. “Natasha!” she greeted earnestly.

Bruce joined them a moment later, letting the two exchange friendly greetings before interrupting.

Natasha released Bellatrix and stared a moment between the witch and the man. “Is...”

“Natasha,” she gestured towards Bruce. “Bruce Wayne, I see that you already recognized him. Bruce,” she gestured towards Natasha, “Natasha Darya Orlova a rather dear friend of mine, and the prima ballerina for Moscow ballet, it seems. Congratulations,” she said.

“Thank you,” Natasha smiled lovely. “May I say I'm very glad to see that the rumours about you are just that – rumours,” she said a moment later. “I was a bit worried; I must admit.”

“I would prefer if a certain uncertainty about the whole matter remained.”

“Of course,” Natasha agreed.

“I'm a bit lost,” Bruce spoke up. “What are you two talking about?”

Bellatrix considered the best way to answer. She could not claim to be a close friend of Natasha's since she had met the younger witch for the first time only a few years ago when she had made her re-appearance in the Wizarding world. But they were not strangers by any means either.

The young woman had performed in the British Wizarding Opera – Natasha had sung wonderfully though her singing was far surpassed by her dancing skills, unfortunately Wizarding world had never taken to ballet and Natasha was also a pure-blood from an ancient Russian family. Ballet just happened to be her greatest desire. Bellatrix had helped the woman integrate into the Muggle society and hide from relatives that might mean her harm.

To be fair, Bellatrix hadn't helped the other witch just out of the goodness of her heart (the existence of which is debatable); she had done so mainly because Natasha was the heiress of her Family and such an ally was not something to look down upon in times of war and uncertainty.

Deciding that by general virtue and her own situation Natasha was unlikely to betray this exchange to someone, besides most of what was going on was probably already clear to her since the young witch was rather bright; Bella decided to be candid.

“I'm pretending to be dead,” she answered. “Back in England, I mean.”

“Because of the War?” Bruce asked frowning.

“Yes.”

“Mister Wayne knows about...,” Natasha gestured vaguely.

Bellatrix and Bruce spoke nearly simultaneously. “Call me Bruce.” “Yes.” They looked at each other, Bruce – amused, Bellatrix – slightly annoyed. He gestured for her to speak with a grin.

“Yes,” Bellatrix affirmed turning to Natasha. “He knows about magic.”

Natasha beamed. “Amazing! I haven't had anyone to share some Wizarding gossip with since we began the tour! And now I have both of you!”

“Actually,” Bellatrix spoke thoughtfully glancing at the clock above the main entrance door to the theatre. “You have Bruce, because I have to get going if I'm to return by the morning.”

“Surely you can postpone?!”

“I apologize, Natasha, but no,” Bellatrix wasn't going to be talked out of her plans. She may have a soft spot for the younger witch due to her plight which was similar to Bella's own, but Bruce's life depended on the dragon-hide – it just was no contest. “You two however – feel free to have dinner and gossip to your hearts desires.”

“You see what I have to live with?” Bruce turned to Natasha in good humour. “You must promise to rescue my evening now that I'm to be abandoned!”

Natasha grinned, latching onto Bruce's elbow presenting to Bellatrix a united front. “Oh, we shall have such a dinner to make her jealous that she chose business over our company, shall we not?”

“I'm sure I'll regret leaving you for forever,” Bellatrix replied dryly.

“That you will,” Bruce assured her. “Natasha, have you been to the Criterion yet?”

“It is very hard to get a reservation there, is it not?”

“I own it,” Bruce said proudly.

Natasha and Bruce both stared at Bellatrix in last attempt to convince her to abandon her plans for the joy of their company. Natasha even pouted.

Bellatrix laughed, shaking her head. “You two have taken to each other far too quickly,” she said. “I think I better leave while the town is still standing.” The street was empty enough, she Apparated silently without another comment. She had a dragon to skin, after all.

Natasha sighed. “And it is always like this.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Bruce said, nodding.

“Come,” Natasha said trying to sound uplifting. “Let's gossip so badly she will never dare leave us alone. I want to know everything about you and how you know Lady Black.”

“You have a yourself a deal, Natasha,” he grinned.


	5. Stolen Magic

She couldn’t just appear in a sandy alleyway in Cairo dressed as a Muggle and expect to deal in dragon-hide, and since her apartment (building) had burned down, she went to the next safest place she could think of. She Apparated home.

She was still keyed into the wards, so the magic allowed her to appear right in the entrance hall. It was but a moment before a house elf popped into existence in front of her.

“Welcome mistress Trixy, welcome!” the small female elf was nearly jumping up and down in excitement.

Bellatrix winced at the address the elf used. It had happened at the summer after Narcissa’s first year at Hogwarts. She had heard Sirius address Bellatrix with the nickname at school so when Bella had angered her sister in some way or another that she no longer remembered; Narcissa had ordered every elf bound to the Family to forever address Bellatrix by the nickname or bear the shame of being dismissed.

Being sister to Narcissa she hadn’t had the authority to overturn the order then, and both their parents had been far too amused by the situation to do anything about it. Well, their mother had been amused and their father had indulged her.

By now Bellatrix however had grown used to the abbreviation and didn’t feel the need to make a big deal out of it. She had far more important things to be concerned about.

“Oh, the Master is going to be so very glad that mistress Trixy is finally at home!” the elf was still gushing.

“Is Father awake?” Bellatrix asked.

“Yes, mistress, Master is in the garden! Watching the late Mistress’ roses is he,” the little elf was wringing her hands with the need to do something.

“Very well,” Bellatrix muttered. “Have tea ready to be served in quarter of an hour. We will have it in the garden.”

“Yes, mistress Trixy!” the elf nodded so enthusiastically that for a moment Bellatrix thought that the small creature’s head would roll off its shoulders and bounce away on its own.

As the elf had said – she found her father in the garden, sitting on a white marble bench and watching the meticulously maintained patch of her mother’s favourite flowers. It hurt like a wrongly played note in an otherwise perfect symphony. She felt guilt. She felt like she was letting him down, because she could hardly imagine how he felt, because it no longer pained her the way it still chipped away at him. And because he was so much more than his grief, but sometimes it was all she could see when she looked at him.

“Father,” she spoke quietly.

He rose, turning to her immediately, “Daughter,” he greeted her with a smile, “Welcome home.”

Due to time difference – where in Gotham it had been dinnertime; here at her father’s manor in Wiltshire it was almost too early to have tea. As they sat down in veranda, Bellatrix finally asked the question that had been nagging at her the most during her five-day seclusion from the Wizarding world.

“Has Narcissa returned home yet?”

Now - Bellatrix had never been close to Narcissa, and to be honest she hadn’t spared much thought to her sister in the last few years, but while she had been lounging about Bruce’s penthouse, healing and with nothing in particular to do, she had had time to think, and wonder. The bond she had with Andromeda was simply not comparable to the one she had with Narcissa, and that begged to question – why? Even with Lily Potter she felt a deeper kinship since the ritual. _And wouldn’t that put my dear aunt in a grave if she weren’t there already._

As a child she had deemed her youngest sister to be an annoyance, and the feeling had stuck through the years until adulthood, until ten years into adulthood when examining her memories Bellatrix came to conclusion that the rift between them stemmed from that very simple thought.

It was dismally ridiculous – the cause and effect nature of everything that had happened. Oh, her revelations didn’t mean in the least that she was about to forget that Narcissa had betrayed her to the Death Eaters or the scene at Andromeda’s wedding or forgive easily everything that Narcissa had done simply out of spite. It did however mean that Bellatrix had a better grasp on her sister’s motivations.

While Narcissa may have been spiteful and her fault was for nurturing those feelings, in a way Bellatrix realized that she had been even worse – considering Narcissa an annoyance she had treated her sister with increasing indifference, bestowing only occasional cursory attention as to any other subject under her rule.

“The Malfoy manor was seized and magically sealed as the assets belonging to Lucius Malfoy were frozen. I doubt she has a way of entering the manor,” Cygnus deliberately misinterpreted her question.

He adored all his daughters, but Bellatrix had always been the one he worried about most, the one to whom he gave the most and the one who had the greatest sway over him. It had taken Narcissa walking away from the family and shutting them out to realize that he had never been a fair parent. _The Sweet will turn sour._

It had been strange to realize that the prophet whom he had adamantly refused to believe in had influenced his life profoundly while his wife (who had believed in the fortune-teller’s words as if they were a gospel from Merlin’s own lips) had been far less affected. He didn’t regret in the least anything that he had given his eldest daughter. Just sometimes as he sat watching his wife’s roses, sometimes he wished he had given his other daughters at least half as much.

“I meant has she come here?”

Cygnus looked out wistfully at the rising sun just barely over the distant hills, before returning his gaze to Bellatrix, “She hasn’t considered the Black Manor her home for years.”

Bella closed her eyes and exhaled forcefully, feeling somewhat apprehensive, “Do you know where she is?”

“No,” Cygnus replied softly.

When she had drafted the laws she had known what effect they would have on the families of the criminals, yet at the same time she had felt that that was the best decision for those circumstances, for what purpose was there in taking away the funds from Death Eaters if they would just get the goods through their wives? After all it was a rare pure-blood wife that dared to deny her husband or disagreed with his general opinion.

Bellatrix hadn’t thought much more about the situation that the relatives of the criminals would find themselves in. It was a universally accepted practice that families took care of their own in which case – if the funds of the husband were seized and the wife had no resources on her own – her family of birth would care for her and any offspring she may have, at least until the trials were done at which point anyone with a legitimate claim could file with the Ministry to have the estate released to them.

It was just in this case – Narcissa hadn’t turned to her family for help.

“How old is Draco now?” It was disconcerting to realize that she didn’t know the age of her own nephew - that she hadn’t cared for specifics, and that she’d found out she had one at all through Daily Prophet of all things.

“Eight months.”

Where would Narcissa go with a child that small and without money? None of the places that came to mind where particularly happy thoughts.

“What about Lucius Malfoy? Any worthwhile rumours about him?”

Cygnus’ gaze narrowed. “There have been a few things whispered in certain circles.”

“Father?” she frowned questioningly. There was an intent almost angry look on her father’s face.

“It is said that he intends to forward Voldemort’s cause. It is said that he considers you an enemy of the Wizarding state and has declared that all faithful to late Lord Voldemort should seek to destroy you by any means.”

Bellatrix had the nerve to laugh. “He is more insane than I gave him credit for.”

Cygnus wasn’t similarly amused. “That may be, but he is still a very powerful wizard.”

“Father, Voldemort was a powerful wizard and _he’s_ dead now,” she brushed off his concern.

“And if you remember Voldemort was also arrogant – a trait you seem to share,” Cygnus pointed out.

“Lucius Malfoy may be a Death Eater and he may even be a talented one, but he has lost almost everything. He has no money, he has no power or influence outside what must be a very narrow circle of similarly mentally deficient wizards and witches which has undoubtedly become an even smaller circle of sycophants due to him usurping Voldemort’s previous position. Whatever Lord Malfoy may be, he is in no way comparable to who was Voldemort.”

“And yet he is still at large,” Cygnus said.

“A dubious accomplishment and undoubtedly temporary one as well,” she countered.

“Be careful,” he advised, nonetheless.

“I always am, Father,” Bellatrix replied easily.

BBRBW

Natasha and Bruce bid their goodbyes to Harvey and Rachel by the entrance to the restaurant. Natasha’s hotel was in different direction than Rachel’s apartment.

As Bruce watched Harvey lead Rachel away, he couldn’t help but think that he wasn’t feeling right – he should feel jealous, shouldn’t he? Frustrated perhaps, because Dent could easily reach for Rachel’s hand during dinner to squeeze it and have her squeeze back. Maybe he should even be angry at Harvey, at Rachel – for having what they had, but he wasn’t.

He felt none of those things, except maybe for some disappointment. It hadn't been all that long ago - a few months? When Rachel had said she’d be with him if he weren’t the man he pretended to be. When she’d said – she’d wait for the day when Batman would no longer be needed.

“It is interesting,” Natasha said leaning against his shoulder. “The way you watch Miss Dawes.”

“What way would that be?” he asked flatly.

“Like you don’t know what to do about her,” she replied easily, both of them watching the other couple walk down the street, away from them.

Bruce cleared his throat but didn’t comment on Natasha’s observation. The woman smirked, before taking pity on him and pulling him away by the cuff of his sleeve, up the street, towards the square.

“Of course, the way you look at Milady Black is completely different.”

“Enlighten me,” he requested dryly.

She stopped with a wide sweeping gesture of her arm, looking at him with wide, incredulous eyes. “If I told you everything, where would be the fun in that?”

“You must be phenomenal on stage,” he remarked regarding her theatrics.

“I most certainly am,” she replied confidently with a laugh. “Now, since we didn’t get to gossip properly, but you did feed me extremely well – you have the honour to take me around the square until I’m certain that I will still fit into my costume tomorrow, then you may be a gentleman and take me back to my hotel,” she announced.

More amused than irritated by her antics, Bruce readily agreed. The young witch was vivacious and entertaining, and the key word in that was – _witch_. He was more than curious about the Wizarding world and he had only Bellatrix’s account on that and while he knew that she wouldn’t outright lie to him, he had more than enough experience with her to know that there were things she’d intentionally omit. Natasha had no such reservations.

And so, he uttered a phrase that in another life might never even occur to him, “Tell me then, what’s new in the Wizarding world?”

BBRBW

Bellatrix got back from her impromptu shopping trip (even with the side-trips she’d taken) sooner than she’d expected mainly due to the difference in time zones. The sun was just about to rise over Gotham city to bring it a day that she had already lived in another part of the world. Bellatrix yawned, suddenly feeling every bit as tired as she looked.

She had already delivered the dragon-hide to Fox’s office at the Wayne Tower so that he could start working on it the first thing in the morning. Haphazardly and stumbling over the ties of her knee-high boots she pulled off her robes before falling into the bed. She closed the drapes, shutting out the morning with a wave of her wand. With a jab, her clothes, and the Invisibility Cloak she had picked from her Gringott’s vault folded themselves neatly and dropped in a stack on the commode. She fell asleep still clutching her wand.

When she woke next it was late afternoon. She moved about lazily, seeing no need to rush. She enchanted her closet to have more space and stored her Wizarding robes and the Cloak out of sight, but without any additional protection seeing no need for them at the moment. It was more than an hour after waking that she felt hungry enough to venture out of her rooms and to the kitchen.

Bellatrix stopped in the doorway as she noticed Bruce’s thunderous expression, which he tried to conceal, badly.

“So, this guy – Voldemort. Natasha says you killed him,” he said as a way of greeting.

“Yes,” Bellatrix answered slowly, frowning. “I did tell you that,” she added heading further into the kitchen. She just wasn’t seeing where this was heading. Surely, he wouldn’t get all sensitive, because she had killed a few people. Didn’t bullets do the same?

“He was a bad guy,” he deliberately spoke shortly and simply, to keep up at least half of pretence of being calm.

“Yes, he was,” Bellatrix agreed, utterly confused. “I told you that before as well,” she walked over to him and reached to feel his forehead. He grasped her arm before she could.

“Are you all right Bruce?” she asked, concerned. He didn’t look feverish, so the only other explanation to his obvious confusion would be either Obliviation or a Confounding spell, in one word – _magic_. She hadn’t thought that Natasha would think, much less dare do something like this. Bellatrix felt fury slowly rising in her chest like a tidal wave.

“I could ask you the same question,” he barely managed to get the sentence out straight. Logically, he knew there was no reason to be worried anymore, after all – here she was, right in front of him, safe and whole, but logic had nothing to do with how he felt.

“What do you mean?” she glanced around before pointing to the nearest stool. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“You told me that the guy was a terrorist! You told me that he killed people!” Bruce let go of her hand as he grasped her shoulders tightly and shook her to emphasize his point.

“Calm down,” she implored softly.

“You never told me that he threw around _words_ that killed people!” he yelled, releasing her, and stepping away only to turn back after a few steps. His shoulders tight with tension, his eyes wild with worry.

Her eyes narrowed. “Wait…” understanding dawned upon her.

“Oh, now you know what I’m talking about.”

She snarled angrily. “How else do you think magic works?” she demanded throwing her arms up in the air. “You’ve seen me do spells – what exactly surprises you so?”

“ _Words_ that _kill_ people,” he growled back at her.

“And?!” she screamed at him. “You have guns. We have wands. What’s the difference?”

“You could have been killed! With _words!”_ he cried back at her before his tone suddenly dropped, and he spoke softly, “There are over a hundred thousand words in English language. Thousands that are used every day and who really thinks about what they say? To have words that could literally hurt… Bellatrix, if I’ve ever said anything…”

And that was the root of this argument, wasn’t it? She shook her head in denial before moving to be closer to him. She took his face in her hands, making him look her in the eyes, “Most wizards can’t say words like that. You could never hurt me like that,” she assured him.

He still looked troubled. “But there are people who can?”

“None who would,” she lied, surging upwards, throwing her arms around him, hugging him and hiding her face against his neck. She stroked his back soothingly as his arms tightened around her. He couldn't help but still have a bad feeling.

“You're real, Bellatrix,” he whispered. It was a concept he still had trouble grasping at times. “I don't think I could bear it if something made you go away.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” she promised, quietly. Doubtfully.

BBRBW

“You do know I could just Apparate in and kidnap the guy?” Bellatrix asked as she leaned back in the office chair, her feet daintily crossed at ankles and let the chair turn around, around and around. The grey walls of the underground chamber all blurred together.

Bruce just shook himself, trying to get rid of the memory of having every molecule in his body compressed and then decompressed which had surfaced at the mention of Apparition. He just couldn't understand how Bellatrix seemed to enjoy this method of travel.

“The thought crossed my mind,” he replied dryly as he stopped trying to get out of his armour, as he watched her.

“And?” she asked, more curious as to why he was refusing than eager to hop around the world after random criminals. Honestly, the things that Muggles considered _a problem_.

Her only business with the whole affair was that these people obviously expected Bruce to solve their issues. She didn't like it. It reminded her of how the Wizarding world liked to pick and choose an individual to fight their battles for them. She had never thought about the situation from that one person's point of view before (mostly just generally annoyed at the irresponsible, sheepish way of thinking that Wizards displayed), but now as she watched Bruce accept the burdens as his due – she wanted to rebel on his behalf. Why was this his problem? The police and District Attorney's office were clumsy and incompetent – they had failed to get either the money or Lau. What fault of Bruce's was there? Why was he the one who had to fix things?

She got angry as she remembered the meeting on the rooftop. She had only been there, because he had disappeared before dinner without saying anything and taking into consideration the argument they'd had in the afternoon, she logically took her Invisibility Cloak and Apparated straight to him – right in the middle of the conversation between Batman, Lieutenant Gordon and Harvey Dent.

And, Merlin, was she glad she had done that. He probably wouldn’t have told her otherwise.

“You said you weren't looking to become my sidekick,” he reminded her, grunting as he finally pulled the mid-section plates off.

She stopped swirling and blinked, trying to reassert which way was where naturally. “I definitely am not,” she assured sounding far more grounded than she felt. She shook her head feeling foolish at having given in to the impulse to whirl in the first place. She tried to glare at him and failed, having trouble concentrating on him in the first place.

“There you have it.”

She almost missed that. It was a moment before she replied, watching him sharply, “Doesn't mean I won't help, if you ask.”

“I know,” he looked at her softly. All she ever wanted of him was to ask if he needed anything, nothing more. Ask and she would do her damnedest to provide. Strangely it made _him_ feel vulnerable.

He resisted the urge to smile as he saw a scowl settle on her face. He could read her thoughts easily in the way she looked at him; she didn't even need to voice a thing. He wondered if she was such an open book to everyone, or was he just... He put aside the vambraces and moved closer to her, dropping into the chair nearest to her. He rolled his chair, until he was in front of her, and quite unthinkingly put his hands on her knees.

“You have a great talent and a great power, and I feel both honoured and humbled that you would waste your gift to help me so I don't want to abuse the privilege, besides this is something Batman must do – something he must be seen doing. Not to mention – do you really want to tell that you can just waltz into Hong Kong and do as you please? You were a Minister for your people in your country. Doesn't that imply that such a system might exist elsewhere? Wouldn't there be rules and regulations, as there are with me?”

She leaned in closer, putting her hands on his shoulders, squeezing to emphasize her point, “It wouldn't be _wasting_.”

He grinned, leaning in closer. “You're avoiding the question.”

“It would take _some_ planning,” she admitted quietly, watching him intensely.

“Same here,” he muttered distractedly before leaning further in for a tentative kiss. Their knees bumped painfully just as their lips did and the moment was shattered. Bellatrix laughed and Bruce grinned. “So, if it's all the same, I'll deal with Lau myself.”

She pushed her chair away, still chuckling. “Fine,” she agreed, easily.

As they had put their friendship on the forefront these past few weeks, so they had put any other type of relationship on a backburner. They had worked at building up the trust that had been lost and catching up with each other’s lives.

However even though they didn't speak of it - neither had forgotten the kiss they shared that afternoon before the ruins of Wayne manor. And as the distance of time spent apart between them lessened so their conversations turned from serious to flirtatious, touches lingered. They had been children, barely aware of how important they were to each other when they split apart. And now... It was different. They were different.

BBRBW

“It’s something new, isn’t it?” Bruce asked brushing his fingers against the material of his new armour. It seemed softer than before, and somewhat scaly.

“That, Mister Wayne, is dragon-hide,” Lucius said with just a hint of pride in his tone. It had been a bit of a challenge to get the dragon skin to integrate with the enforced titanium plates for the armour, but in the end, it was exactly what had been hoped.

“What?” Bruce frowned questioningly.

“Your friend provided it. That is the strongest flexible, natural material in the world.”

“Really?” he asked. “How come we didn’t use it before?”

“Dragons are magical creatures and their hide is hard to obtain even for Wizarding folk. Think of it as something similar to trade in ivory,” Lucius had tried to get it before, by himself, a long time ago when he had first learned of Wizarding World. He had failed, realizing not only how expensive the skin was, but also how selective the sellers were of their clientele.

“And she just went and got it in one afternoon…,” Bruce muttered more to himself than to Lucius, though the other man heard him quite clearly.

“Lady Black is extremely resourceful,” he replied in kind. “Now, if you observe, this armour will be more flexible than the previous ones – that’s because we used a lot of small plates instead of few larger ones, thanks to the dragon hide – there really isn’t any trade off. It will withstand fire, blunt force, and knives. Concentrated automatic fire still might be a bit of a problem, so don’t stand around imitating a target, if you can.”

“You know me, Lucius,” Bruce grinned. “A good imitation goes a long way,” then he grabbed a vambrace, shifting it in his hands, inspecting it as daggers flew out narrowly missing him. He barely raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps you should read the instruction manual first?” Lucius enquired only partially meaning it as a joke.

BBRBW

“Are you _sure_ you don't want me to just Apparate there and get the guy?” she asked trying to sound nonchalant. Still pretending that the parchment in front of her had all her attention.

During the last few days since her short excursion back to England and a few other places, she had moved quite a lot of her things into his penthouse and more specifically into the study. He didn’t use it as Bruce Wayne and Batman had his own secret, personal underground space so she felt no guilt taking over the cabinet.

She might not be the Minister any longer, but she was still Lady Black and there was always paperwork and she had ignored it for far too long. In front of her at the moment were Gringott’s reports and those of her Account Manager – she needed to sign off on her newest business acquisitions in Wizarding world.

“Are you sure Natasha will agree?” Bruce replied with a question, lounging in the armchair. He was sipping a nutritional cocktail.

“Of course,” Bellatrix replied not even looking up from her paperwork. “You seem to have made quite an impression,” the words slipped out as an after-thought. She grimaced but didn’t adjust her previous statement. Logically she knew that Natasha was just eager to help and glad to make some mischief. On the other hand, …

“Are you jealous?” he teased, his eyes suddenly alight with mischief.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed finally looking up at him. She signed the paper beneath her quill without looking and shoved it aside violently, uncaring whether the wet ink smeared.

“We talked about you all the time you were gone,” Bruce spoke reassuringly, though the cocky grin on his face somewhat ruined the effect.

“Now that _is_ somewhat disturbing,” she sneered, trying not to smile, but her good humour showed in her tone.

She hadn’t seriously considered that there was anything happening between Bruce and Natasha, not that she, strictly speaking, had any claim on him but that of a close friend despite the tension mounting between them lately. So, the green tinged monster of envy that had wrapped itself with delicate tendrils around her throat a moment earlier both surprised and annoyed her. What was worse, she could see that her predicament clearly _amused_ Bruce. She glared at him, without heat.

BBRBW

“Somehow this is your fault,” Bruce whispered to Bellatrix before smiling widely for the cameras.

Bellatrix had been beside him and Alfred almost every step of the planning and as much as she insisted that she wasn’t a part of his Batman crusade - she still provided her insight when she thought it necessary.

“I didn’t tell you to buy the whole bloody island,” she replied quietly through her teeth, also grinning for the reporters while hanging on his arm as she was his date for the event.

“No, no - you just suggested I buy out the company who owned it,” his lips barely moved as he pushed the words out waving at the people watching them in general.

Bellatrix shrugged and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear – it was so hot here it was hard to breathe even with the cooling charms she had cast. “It seemed more sensible.”

“What the hell would I do with a pineapple empire?”

She wondered how manic their smiles will seem on the photos with them talking through their teeth all the time while they were being photographed. “Make juice,” she replied as succinctly as possible.

He laughed and lead them off the airfield where they had been greeted by most of the meagre population of the island and major business owners (hoteliers, mostly), and reporters both from the island and not. It spoke about the enthusiasm of the people that they had been waiting for them to arrive here, where on the airstrip the temperature was at least twice as much as it was off it.

Bellatrix breathed deeply only once the door with the tinted windows of their jeep closed and they were alone in the backseat of the conditioned vehicle. She relaxed against the cool leather seats and cancelled the cooling charm she had placed on herself and him before exiting the plane. The charm had let her body keep a pleasant temperature, but the air on the field had been almost unbearable to inhale.

“Where would you like to go?” their driver asked.

They shared a glance and Bellatrix indicated that she really didn’t care so Bruce asked for a tour of his newly bought island. Her idea of buying out the company was a more logical one, but Bruce had done research on the owner and knew that just because Wayne Enterprises could buy out the shares and debts, and gain controlling interest – just because he could, didn’t mean he _should_. Bruce didn’t want to take the corporate rising anew away from the man who was struggling to build it up from ashes, from a man to whom it was legacy. It seemed more collegial and also more fitting to his playboy image to buy just the island so that he could vacation there. With the Russian Ballet. And Bellatrix.

BBRBW

Bellatrix was back on the island, in a hotel instead of on the yacht. Contrary to Natasha she had no wish to pretend to be a slowly cooking meal in the merciless sun of South Pacific. She was lounging in her hotel suite when a phoenix appeared before her bearing the seal of the British Minister for Magic. She took it tentatively. The bird burst into flames, disappearing immediately.

**_Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black_ **

**_Lady Black, Bellatrix_ **

She opened it.

_Dear cousin,_

_I apologize if the phoenix was an unwelcome surprise, but Fawkes was the only one willing and able to get this missive to you, and this is very important._

_We have captured Lucius Malfoy. We have not had any news of Narcissa and little Draco as of yet, and... Andromeda has gone missing too. It’s been three days. Theodore is beside himself._

_Also, we cannot interrogate Malfoy. Upon capture he held one of my Aurors hostage and extracted an Unbreakable Vow on conditions that you interrogate him and if we try anything else – any magical or mundane means then they shall have no effect and the Auror in question will die. Veritaserum is the first thing we attempted. My Auror is dead. Malfoy is not talking. We cannot even bloody touch him with the intention to beat the answers out._

_Faithfully yours,_

_Sirius Black._

She crunched the letter in her fist before going to the bathroom – she threw it in the bath and set it on fire. Lucius Malfoy couldn’t get to her, so he had taken he sister. Her heavily pregnant sister. The flames died, but a sinister smile settled on her face. She would interrogate him alright.

BBRBW

They were in the courtroom 5. There was no one at the podium nor in any of the higher seats. Lucius Malfoy was sitting in the centre of the circular room, shackled to his chair. Sirius and Lily were sitting on a bench, James was standing near Lucius, supervising the prisoner as Head Auror. There were Unspeakables, covered by long cloaks and deep hoods sitting in the spectator’s places.

Bellatrix marched in from a side door. Her steps echoed ominously in the room. She spun on her heel to stand, facing Lord Malfoy. Her hands were calmly by her sides, she wasn't clutching anything, she looked... Serene. Serious, but utterly in control. She didn't speak.

Neither did Lucius.

For a while at least. James was already impatient and getting more so by the minute. He wanted to prod the arrogant blonde with his wand to make him talk, but since neither Sirius nor Bellatrix made any move – he also bid his time. Not that he hadn’t kicked the bastard before, but that hadn’t had any effect either. James couldn’t guess whether that was because of the Vow or because Malfoy was extremely good at faking it.

“This is so typical for you, Lady Black, you wait until someone else makes a move reserving the right to judge afterwards... Quite like Dumbledore,” Malfoy spoke slowly and clearly as if they were having a moderately boring discussion over tea.

Bellatrix's eyes opened more widely at the accusation. It was an insult, and one that very few would have known to make, one that very few would have known would have a target to reach. For most being compared to Dumbledore would be the highest compliment. Lily bristled in the background.

“Dumbledore is a great man,” James snarled.

Lucius sneered back at him. “You’re more alike to a _rabid forest animal_ than a Wizarding Lord, Potter.”

“Focus, Lord Malfoy,” Bellatrix barked, speaking for the first time since entering this room. “You wanted me here for a reason. I'm still waiting on that.”

Lucius immediately turned his attention to her. He cocked his head to a side and smirked, “You do it so prettily, do you not? Wait. Bide your time. Strike only when it benefits yourself.”

Bellatrix didn't reply. Her expression became almost curious. Her nature was impatient and impetuous though not thoughtless. She would not have described herself as the spider Malfoy named her.

“Those fools,” he said indicating everybody else in the room. “They think you saved them, but you did something far worse, did you not? You gave them the control to have beasts run around among us as if they belong, you gave them the freedom to pollute our bloodlines with mud, in the end – you gave them their world and let them at it. And you know what it is exactly what you did, do you not?” his tone grew lower and lower as he spoke.

“Yes,” she answered surely, to the shock and concern of others.

Lucius barred his teeth in a savage smile. “You gave them the devil's plaything. And then you left being hailed as a hero,” he mocked. “Wherever do you hide, Milady?”

“You do not seriously expect me to answer that,” she looked down at him, but didn’t come closer than a hand could reach, even though he was chained.

“Oh, but I'm telling you a story, why don't you return the favour? I am chained after all. Where would I go and whom would I tell?” he rattled his bonds to prove his point.

“I've been accused of being arrogant, but I don't think I'm a fool enough to believe that you are in that seat out of anything but your own wish.”

The blonde wizard inclined his head lightly. “Bravo, Lady Black.”

“What do you mean?” James asked, frowning. “What does he mean?” His wand was trained on Lucius, as it had been since the prisoner had been transported here. “Those chains are unbreakable.”

Bellatrix didn't react to him. She just smiled softly, sinisterly. Waiting.

“If you ever wish to see either of your sisters again, you will order them to release me,” Lucius told her almost gently.

Before Sirius or anyone else for that matter could protest or even worse – release the man, Bellatrix spoke, “You don't expect me to actually let you go.”

“No,” he breathed, slumping in his chair. “But then again, who knows what might happen to your beautiful girls in my Lord's care.”

“What?” Sirius demanded, rising from his chair. Lily’s gaze darted between Bellatrix and Lucius Malfoy as understanding slowly dawned on her. James chewed on his bottom lip.

Bellatrix threw out her arm, gesturing for Sirius to sit back down. “Your Lord's?” she inquired innocently almost as if she didn’t care or comprehend the implication.

Lucius' features trembled and then slowly changed into the face of Amycus Carrow.

The Unspeakables remained still, but the rest were confused. Lily gasped, James started checking the doors, Sirius sat – flabbergasted.

Bellatrix paled. But not for any reason anyone else present might assume. Andromeda's baby was to be the only metamorphmagus in the past five decades. And very, very few knew that small fact. Carrows did not have such a gift in their bloodline.

She lunged forward grasping Carrow by the lapels of his robe, kneeling in his lap – her calm replaced by unconcealed fury. “What has Malfoy done with them?” she snarled.

Carrow laughed. “You will find out. Eventually.” Then he bit down on poisonous seed within his mouth and died in her arms.

Bellatrix straightened, got to her feet, letting the body carelessly drop to the floor still chained to the chair. She swirled around addressing everyone present, “He's not Malfoy so the Oath could not have been binding,” she announced. “The only reason your Auror is dead, because the other must have been a spy. Get him.”

“Her,” Lily said. “She was sent home, because of the stress...”

“Bellatrix, I'm so sorry,” Sirius said reaching for her to grasp her shoulder, to try comfort her in some way, but balked when she glared at him.

“We'll find him,” James swore.

“No, you won't,” Bellatrix argued. “Hasn't he already proven with this that he is clever? Far cleverer than the clumsy morons you employ. You will find him when he wants to be found and not the other way around. In the meantime – I suggest you prepare.”

“For what?”

“Whatever's coming.”

BBRBW

Bruce stood silently, just holding her close and doing exactly what he had been doing for years – waiting. He knew he could not guess what was on her mind, so like numerous times before he just waited for her to tell him. In truth – there was always a level on which neither of them ever understood the other, but they always _wanted_ to, so they always waited, always patiently looked for the right time to push for answers. Had there ever been two people so very different, but so very hell bent on communicating? Making it work?

“I don't like this,” she said leaning back into his embrace to rest her head against Bruce’s shoulder. It was ridiculous and partially she realized how pathetic it was, but his mere presence comforted her, and she wasn’t above taking that comfort.

“They're in none of the Black estates unless there's one under _Fidelius_ in which case there is no way for me to find it unless I'm told specifically, and _all_ Malfoy's properties were confiscated so they’re out while _Ted_ has just the one house, and Lucius has obviously been hiding out for far longer than Andromeda’s been missing.

‘They have no funds, no estates – everything registered has been frozen and is consequently under Ministry's control. _Anything else…_ There's just no way to find out short of combing through every square meter of the British Isles, and there's just not enough manpower for that, though I've already suggested they begin and do so in Wales.”

He tightened his arms around her, hugging her closer to his chest. “Is there anything I can do?”

She shifted lightly in his arms. “No,” she replied. “I know you want to help, but no.”

The light breeze on the balcony in the tropical island was heavenly. A break in the heaviness that hung in the air. She had got back to the hotel just before he returned from Hong Kong. They had this night before all had to return to Gotham City.

“Perhaps some paperwork I can help you go through?”

“That’s just it, Bruce. Lucius isn’t going to attack with paperwork, and I’ve secured everything in that area a long time ago, no… What I’m afraid of is what he might have already done.”

“What do you mean?”

She didn’t want to answer. Carrow had had metamorphmagus abilities. While it had been easy to convince most of the Aurors and Unspeakables present that Carrow had in fact probably ingested some kind of advanced Polyjuice potion – she knew it was not the only explanation, as did Lily and Sirius, and James. And there were only so many ways how to steal another wizard’s power. She dreaded to think which one Malfoy had used.

“It’s just… He has my sisters, Bruce. This is not war. This is personal,” she told him the basics, but not the whole of it. She knew she was going back on their promise, but this was something he didn’t need to know. It was a terrible piece of knowledge – something nobody should know about and it wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. She didn’t want to burden him with it.

“There’s nothing you can do at the moment either?”

“I could start at one point and try to comb through the whole bloody island.”

“You could,” he agreed succumbing to temptation and slipping his hand into her hair to play with the strands. “Do you honestly believe that that would make a difference?” His fingers massaged her scalp, his voice low and near her skin.

She smiled, resignedly. “I know it wouldn’t. Until Malfoy is ready to make the next move – there’s nothing really to be done,” she said aloud what she had known from the start. It didn’t make her feel better. “I just… I hate that somehow it has come to this – that he has been able to play me like this - that now I have to wait on him.”

“You’ll get him,” Bruce assured her, leaning in lower. “I know you will,” he maintained, and pressed a light kiss against her neck. Then another, moving higher against her jawline until she turned her face and a short moment later, he captured her lips. She sighed into the kiss. They had been dancing around this for weeks.

And she wanted the comfort of a touch right now. Something with which to forget her mounting frustrations and setbacks. It was easy to turn in his embrace, find the buttons of his shirt and pull them apart.

She kissed him a tad desperately - looking for forgetfulness. She pushed him from balcony back into the suite a tad violently, but he went easily. The man was built like a tank, but underneath her hands he gave in softly. Whenever she needed. Whatever she needed.

Bellatrix paused – frozen for a moment as she looked over his form – his white shirt open, eyes dark.

The change from balcony to the air-conditioned room felt like the dawn of an understanding. Bruce wasn’t just her friend. He knew her nature more than any other and he … He had half the world in the palm of his hand. He had the underworld shaking at the mention of his name. He had the composure to weather the storms she brought his way by her character and circumstance.

He was not someone she could take as a lover casually.

She smiled realizing another thing.

When she moved – she came to him gentled. The gown she had worn underneath her robes at the courthouse opened easily with a tendril of her magic. When she pressed close to him, she saw in his eyes a question he did not dare voice yet. A light kiss to the corner of his mouth, her palms ghosted across his chest. “When you know the question, you want to ask – I will have the answer,” she whispered.

“I… Bellatrix,” his arms around her, sliding between the openings in her dress, keeping her close. Always trying to keep her close.

“Shhh, words will come later,” she interrupted. “Tonight, is for something else.”

BBRBW

They had been back in Gotham City for nearly two weeks now. Everywhere they had been everyone seemed to be talking of Harvey Dent and the case he had made against the mob. Thousands of charges altogether, hundreds of criminals.

Bellatrix had two minds about it – one, she was glad that there was someone in the legal system that was tackling the issue; two – all of this was only possible because of Bruce. And she had a bad feeling that this was not the end of Gotham needing him as its saviour. But she didn’t mind applying pressure where result could be achieved so she had happily assisted Bruce in organizing fundraiser for Dent.

“What’s going on?” Bellatrix asked as she walked down the stairs towards Alfred and Bruce.

Both of them immediately turned to her and Bruce intentionally moved in front of the TV screen, using the remote to shut down the sound, unable to reach the turn-off button with his thumb. She, of course, noticed, he wasn’t exactly subtle in his movements.

“Ehm,” Bruce cleared his throat struck classically speechless for a moment as he beheld her.

The dress Bellatrix was wearing was a strapless gown of beige silk double faced satin, pleated from the neckline till waist, making the gown form-fitting down to her hips from which the expensive, liberally used fabric flowed freely to her ankles. Starting from just under the breast line was an overlaying layer of exquisitely embroidered antique champagne coloured lace from Acromantula silk with small pearls woven in the patterns, giving the outfit a somewhat ethereal sheen due to being several hues lighter than the gown itself. In her arms, completing the outfit was a light scarf from the same Acromantula silk, and her high-heeled shoes that were the same soft beige colour as the gown made her barely an inch shorter than Bruce.

Her hair was pulled up completely without leaving a strand out so as not to distract from the gown itself. Her naturally curly hair was pulled tight and twisted in intricate patterns on the back of her head, and the weaves enhanced with pearls.

When Bruce saw her, he felt that only one thing was missing.

Bellatrix scowled when he didn’t offer an answer at all, much less a satisfactory one. She strode over, yanking the remote out of his hand before he could react and turning the sound on.

“Bellatrix, don’t,” he protested belatedly. She just glanced at him, raising a questioning eyebrow before turning her attention back to the news channel.

The airing of Joker’s video was over, but the reporter was still going on about the fake Batman murder, and how the body had been dumped at the City Hall. Bellatrix pursed her lips, scowling more heavily as she brought up the digital programme and selected a repeat.

Alfred tactfully retreated a bit further, pretending to inspect the preparations for the fundraiser, but still watching over them.

She exhaled heavily when reel was over and clicked, turning the TV off. “Were you going to tell me?” she asked staring ahead, out the windows at Gotham’s skyline.

“It’s not important,” he replied reaching for her.

“It’s a threat on your life,” she countered incredulously, turning to face him, placing her hands on her hips, aggressively. “You seem to take those against mine seriously.”

“It’s a threat against Batman,” he placated, a light caress against her shoulder.

“Semantics,” Bellatrix snapped back, pulling away.

Bruce sighed. “Bella, let’s not do this right now,” he asked. “Yes, the Joker is dangerous, and _no,_ there is nothing that I can do about him at the moment, but I most certainly will once I get the chance. You look lovely and I feel great, can we just enjoy the party tonight?”

She didn’t like it – letting the matter go, trying to relax in the moment when she knew that out there was a psychopath with a vendetta. However – she could see his logic. Same as with Lucius Malfoy – there was nothing to be done about it on the spot.

“Fine,” far it be for her to be unreasonable.

“Good. Now, before we go, there’s something you seem to be missing,” he said casually. “Wait a minute,” he instructed before jogging back upstairs.

She turned to Alfred who was near enough to be talked to and far enough not to be intruding when she and Bruce had been fighting. Again. “I’m not overreacting,” it was a question disguised as a statement. “There is a reason to be concerned.”

Alfred took a deep breath, “I won’t say there isn’t a cause for worry, but Master Wayne made a fine point as well. You look terrific, Miss Black, and you should enjoy tonight.”

“I know,” she replied resignedly, not paying much attention to the compliment. She knew the dress was spectacular – it had cost a fortune, after all, and had been custom sewn specifically for the banquet she had organized when she had taken over Rosier Ltd., but far more important at the moment on her mind was the issue with Bruce.

“A few months ago, I could have named two reasons at most, why Master Bruce would go to such lengths to organize a social event, and I’m glad to say that neither is relevant now.”

“I’m not sure I unders…,” she was interrupted by Bruce returning. He had donned the jacket for his suit and was carrying in his hand a square jewellery box. Alfred recognized it immediately. Bellatrix didn’t. Bruce smiled mysteriously, as he handed it to her.

Curious, Bellatrix opened it carefully, and it took her but few moments to realize what she was looking at. She immediately raised her eyes back to Bruce. “Those were your mother’s,” she said softly, before glancing back down, letting her fingers ghost over the delicate pearl necklace. “You had it remade,” she said thoughtfully.

She loved pearls. She had always had a weakness for pearl jewellery, which was a trait she knew she shared with his late mother. It is generally accepted that – diamonds are the jewels that are forever, that they symbolize wealth, eternity, and other equally sought-after ideals. However Bellatrix loved pearls exactly because they were temperamental, required care and consideration, could be as expensive as any tiny diamond, and what’s more… Pearls _weren’t_ forever, perfectly maintained they could last for three centuries at most before crumbling to dust, and that’s the thing about pearls that she loved. Rocks could be passed on from generation to generation, but pearls for the most time only ever had one owner. _Especially if Wizarding kind._

“I thought they would fit nicely with what you're wearing tonight,” he said, smiling.

“I'd love to wear them,” she replied almost reverently as she caressed the jewels once more before thrusting the box back at him. “Put them on, please.”

He took the pearls, and let the box drop in the nearby chair. He placed them around her neck and did the clasp quickly, but lingered in place, one of his hands on her shoulder, the other lightly caressing the back of her neck. He found it easier to say what he wanted to say without her looking at him. “It’s not just for tonight,” Bruce whispered in her ear. “I want you to have them. Forever.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. There really was no other answer, nothing to think about, but still – she needed a moment. This was dangerously close to a question that they still hadn’t discussed. She whirled around, his hands sliding from her shoulders and back. “All right,” she grinned brilliantly.

“Okay,” he was almost relieved, because it wasn’t just about the pearls or about what they meant to him. It was about _her_.

BBRBW

It was all, of course, about making an entrance, but Bellatrix hadn’t been ecstatic about taking the helicopter in the first place so she didn’t hesitate to grip Bruce’s hand hard enough to hurt as he helped her out of one. The rotors were slowing down, but the wind still wreaked havoc on the delicate threads of her dress. She pointedly took a moment to straighten the material before allowing him to lead her indoors where all were already watching their every movement.

Alfred opened the door for them, and Bruce led her in on his arm showing her off as a prized possession. She was amused by the smug expression on his face and the way it fit him so well, and did her part as well, moving elegantly and arrogantly, making sure that she was exactly in spots where light would shine at the right angle to emphasize the exquisite pearls adorning her.

Quite contrary to Bruce’s birthday party where there had only been a somewhat limited and selected group of individuals invited, here where all those wealthy and powerful with a vested interest in Gotham and among them quite a few entrepreneurs that Bellatrix herself was familiar with.

She grinned as she heard whispers begin lightly and then quieten down as Bruce moved forward, beginning to talk. She stood near him and did what was required of her – looked pretty – tuning out most of his speech and focusing on Rachel. Bella had been itching to meet her for weeks. The other woman was staring, squinting at her and Bellatrix knew that the forcefully forgotten memories were nudging at Rachel’s mind, asking to be remembered. Bellatrix smirked at her.

Absent-mindedly Bella wondered how long it would take for rumours of a merger between Rosier Limited and Wayne Enterprises to start up, and how long it would take for them to die down. As she saw several business tycoons already pushing their heads together, discussing something, she knew the answer to her first question.

BBRBW

Rachel watched Bruce and that woman (the one she had never seen before in her life but felt like she should know) mingle with the guests, eventually separating as their acquaintances dragged them different ways. Rachel smiled and engaged in small talk all the while trying to watch either Bruce or his _guest_.

“Ah, I see you’re wondering about the same thing that we are, Miss Dawes.”

Rachel nearly jumped, startled out of her thoughts by the amused remark. She turned all her attention to Edward Moore – the man whom she recognized as a member of the board of directors at Wayne Enterprises. “Yes?”

“Whether the arrangement between Mister Wayne and Miss Rosier will also produce an arrangement between their companies,” the man commented lightly.

“Rosier…,” Rachel drawled. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“Rosier Limited, most likely. Also, a family company not unlike Wayne Enterprises,” Edward replied. “It’s relatively young European conglomerate – Miss Rosier is the second-generation owner, she has inherited it from her father. They dominate the European market.”

Rachel glanced quickly at this Miss Rosier. So, she was exactly like Bruce, Rachel thought. _Or as Bruce pretends to be, because he is not as shallow as he acts, but she… The cost of her dress if sold – it could probably feed several African villages for a year._ Rachel had never been so concerned about the welfare of people in Africa.

BBRBW

They were swaying softly to the band. It was a slow song. It hardly carried in the large room, but that's why a live band had been chosen over a DJ. There were several other couples nearby, but further in the penthouse the conversation amidst the crowd was alive and loud.

Harvey was mingling with the guests that technically were his. Rachel was staring.

Bellatrix caught her stare over Bruce's shoulder. She smirked, but her expression was half-hidden by Bruce. Bella knew that the memory charm on Rachel must be breaking. It was just a question of time. Her gaze moved back to her dance partner.

They didn't talk. They didn't need to. At that moment they understood each other perfectly. There was nothing to argue about, nothing to discuss and nothing yet to confess. It was a still moment of time, if for the fact that they were dancing.

The party was nice. She loved the pearls. He appreciated that she had come with him. They both spared a thought to the boards of their companies and how amusing it will be to deal with the rumours that this evening will inspire.

There was no awkwardness, no hesitation, and no doubts. When they were together the universe clicked – everything in the world seemed to be in its rightful place. They had never really talked about what it was between them – they were friends, best friends, lovers now and on a slow track to something else entirely. Everything that had happened and would happen seemed just like another step in a predetermined long way and neither too early nor too late.

Bellatrix had never thought that it would be like this – peaceful. It was peaceful with Bruce. Every moment she spent with him she felt so very alive yet calm, in control and satisfied. All the things that she had to work hard to be at other times especially when usually she felt like a raging storm, heedless and violent.

Peace was underrated. The thought seemed ridiculous, but when he took her in his arms it seemed like the only thing important in this world.

BBRBW

Rachel had never been one to avoid confrontation. She waited for a moment when Bellatrix was alone, or at least, not with Bruce, and attacked, that is, moved closer to introduce herself.

The smile Rachel gave Bellatrix was brilliant and fake. “We have not been introduced! I'm Rachel Dawes. Bruce's oldest friend.”

Bella's smile was soft. Like a wolf's after it has dined. “Yes, it would seem so,” she replied not specifying to which statement her comment applied.

Rachel squinted catching the implied insult; she wasn't old! She and the woman were about the same age! “I've not seen you around before,” Rachel wasn't dissuaded in the least.

“I'm in Gotham sporadically and in the last seven years almost not at all,” Bella replied and took a glass of champagne from a plate of a passing waiter.

“Really?” Rachel's smile became tighter. “I wonder, how do you know Bruce?”

Bellatrix did not like to be interrogated and that was exactly what this semi-polite conversation was. But at the same time, she was just a pinch amused and curious about how far Rachel’s memory was jogged. “I've known him for a long time.”

Rachel wanted answers. That didn't mean she wanted the other woman to know that she wanted them. She knew that she was already pressing too much but couldn't really help herself. “He is quite a friend, isn't he?” she asked, eyes searching for Bruce. “Excuse me.”

Bellatrix caught her lightly by the arm. “I'm so sorry. How rude of me, I forgot to even tell you my name,” she pulled Rachel back into the conversation. “I'm Bellatrix Rosier.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Rachel said almost automatically. She lost sight of Bruce and for a moment, staring at Bella's face, she got really confused. Almost dizzy.

“Are you quite alright?” Bella asked, the note of concern in her voice – a perfection.

“Yes,” Rachel replied unconvincingly. “Yes. Yes, I'm fine.”

Bellatrix nodded kindly. “The champagne is exquisite, but quite strong,” she commented.

Rachel felt like she should blush. She didn't. “Haven't tasted it yet.”

“Of course,” Bella said in the same kind, condescending tone.

“If you'll excuse me, I have to go to the ladies' room,” Rachel forced another smile.

“Of course, of course,” Bella moved aside and indicated doors further down the hall, “Take left, that's a guest room, you'll find a private bathroom there.”

BBRBW

He had come out to get some fresh air. He'd lost Bellatrix in the crowd and the last he'd seen her she'd been having good time or at least pretending very well to have a good time. He had never really grown used to parties such as this. He felt that he could divide his life into two parts – before he went away and when he came back. Before he went away, he'd been a child, a teenager, a confused young man and now he was a man, a good man, he hoped, but... He chuckled. Sometimes he wondered how people even bought his act. He hadn't grown up partying, he'd just shown up already an adult. How could people think that this was all he wanted in life?

It was hard to mix and mingle in the merry crowd as if it was his life's sole purpose and ambition. It was hard to enjoy the party which is probably why Alfred thought it was a one in a century kind of miracle that he had suggested this in the first place. He envied Bellatrix a little. He knew that she'd grown up with this, and by rights so should have he, but his life had been much more secluded.

He leaned against the balcony and watched the people inside. Watched Bellatrix. She moved easily through the crowd, smiled, and laughed in what seemed to be the right moments engaging almost half the room at a time. She was the perfect hostess. For a moment he considered asking her for lessons. He was confident in himself, so it wasn't hard to appear arrogant at times, but she... She had always worn arrogance as an exquisite perfume.

He almost didn't notice Rachel until she was barely five steps from him.

Their conversation was short and though he dominated most of it, he still felt he hadn't said anything at all. Rachel left with Harvey and Bruce smelled the remains of the champagne in his glass. He wasn't drinking tonight, though at the moment he wished he was.

He was glad Rachel was with Harvey. He really was. He'd be hurt if the situation was any different, but it wasn't and so he wasn't. Rachel had promised she'd wait for him, but the way he'd seen it the last few months she had never really been free to wait in the first place. And to think – he had never been free for her either. For Rachel’s part maybe she had thought she was, but …

Bruce breathed in deeply the late evening air. It smelled better up here on the balcony. Nowhere near as fresh as it had been at the mansion, but better than anywhere else in the city.

What he had tried to tell Rachel in his roundabout way, suddenly feeling like an awkward teenager, was that the day when Batman was no longer needed _was_ coming, but that he didn't need her to wait for him, that he didn't _want_ her to wait for him. Thankfully Rachel had understood the main idea.

She said that he couldn't ask her to wait for that. He wasn't.

BBRBW

While Bruce in no way approved of the fact that Joker had crashed his party, he had to admit that jumping from the penthouse was the most exciting aspect of his evening. Though the award for the most pleasant moment went to the dance he had managed to have with Bellatrix before they were pulled apart by the curiousness of their guests.

“I can't believe we survived the fall,” Rachel wondered gazing up at the night sky, the building. She was strangely comfortable in Bruce's arms. Neither the glass nor the car, crushed underneath them, bothered her. “I can't believe we're not even injured. You're okay, right?”

“Yes, I'm fine,” he replied in Batman's hoarse voice.

“Is Harvey safe?” she asked looking at Bruce and seeing only the pitch-black mask and his eyes, shining.

“He should still be out, so if he's still where I put him, yes, he is.”

“Thank you,” she said earnestly. “Thanks for jumping after me and for saving Harvey.”

“That's what I do.”

She laughed. “Yes, it is.”

People were gathering around them. The moment was over. It was time to climb down, make sure that the police were already on their way. Bruce had to go back upstairs make sure that Joker was already gone, that he wasn't threatening anyone else, but Racel wanted to selfishly steal just a few more moments.

“On the roof, you told me...”

“I don't think this is a good time for that conversation,” he interrupted her, sitting up. “You're sitting on my cloak, so you'll have to climb down first.”

BBRBW

The man in a clown's mask, who had let his gun just hang at his side to grab with both hands what the terrified guests threw at him; he moved towards her, and extended his hand reaching for her pearls. Bellatrix took a couple of steps back, as if intimidated, but her goal was to reach the table. The man cornered her against it.

“Hello, pretty,” he rasped. “You know what I want,” he said reaching for her throat and her necklace.

Bellatrix smashed the cup of her glass against the table, spilling the champagne and pushed the shards against the man's throat. “Think again,” she snarled.

The other clowns, nearest to them, pointed their guns at her.

“Drop the glass, doll,” the man in her grasp laughed. She pressed the glass into his throat until it drew blood.

“You think they can shoot me before I slit you open?”

“Oh, gorgeous, and you are gorgeous – what a spirit in you!” the Joker sauntered closer, intrigued. He was short on time since he knew that it was unlikely that Batsy was seriously hurt by the fall, but he never could just resist. “Tell me, what's your name, precious?”

Bellatrix sneered, not letting her gaze wander from the clown she already had in her grasp. She could slit the man's throat before anyone blinked. The surrounding intruders levelled their weapons once again at her.

“I'm not very patient, love,” Joker said, sliding next to her and cocking his head as he stared, unconcerned, at the man she was poised to kill. He could smell the fear on the guy, and that angered him. He moved swiftly, stabbing his own knife in the man's heart four times, and then twisting it. With each draw of the knife, blood spattered on Joker and Bellatrix – she leaned as far away as she could, but there was nowhere to retreat, she already was up against the table.

 _Oh, the silk…,_ she thought, annoyed.

“Where were we?” Joker asked absent-mindedly as he wiped his knife clean on his own jacket. The other clown dropped dead to the floor.

“Names,” she replied dryly.

“So then, precious, let’s make a deal – you can keep your pearls, but you tell me your name, whaddya say?”  
  


She narrowed her eyes, but replied nonetheless, “Bellatrix Rosier.”

“Now that was easy, wasn’t it?” he slid up next to her, pushing the plates out of the way to sit on the edge of the table. “Unlike how I got these scars,” he waved with his knife. “Do you want to know how I got these scars?” he asked leaning in closer to her ear.

She still had a death grip on the glass. “Not particularly,” she replied.

He shrugged. He _was_ short on time anyway. “At least you’re honest,” then he jumped off the table and grabbed her by her hair pulling her with him. Bellatrix hissed, but before she could swing with her glass, he pulled her into an embrace and put a knife beneath her chin. “You’re a lot of trouble, Bella dear, you know that?”

“Thought you said you liked a little fight?” she snarled as he led her forward to the elevators. The man had been faster than she anticipated, but he would pay for that.

The guests watched, terrified. She hoped none of them would attempt to do anything stupid. She could handle her own, once she’d be out of sight. She couldn’t very well use magic in a room full of muggles.

“That’s true, I do,” it wasn’t possible to tell whether he was truly smiling or not.

She concentrated on a wandless binding spell to ensure that no one moved at least for a moment, her eyes had fallen closed in concentration so she didn’t notice when the clown pushed her into elevator, but she as her eyes snapped open her control of the spell broke and released the people in the penthouse. She fell against the back of the elevator cabin.

“You’re gonna be _fun._ For some time anyway,” he said pushing the floor button with a gun he had somehow acquired during the time she hadn’t been paying attention to him.

“What are you planning?” she gathered herself, stood straighter and straightened her blood spoiled dress. She was being kidnapped. She didn’t feel fear. These were muggles after all. And she was arrogant. She _had_ killed Voldemort. She was a priestess of Dark Magic. _What can they possibly do, hah._

“I don’t plan, gorgeous,” he replied with a mad grin. “But I do think there will be a lot of people coming after you.”

“And what exactly about that fact makes you so smug?”

He pivoted on his heel to face her, tapped the end of her nose, and announced, “Their facial expressions when they finally find you!”

She frowned. “Are you planning to kill me? That’s just so… cliché.”

He shrugged. “All the best things become clichés, darling, but just follow along now, would you,” he leaned in conspirationally. “Feel free to struggle and make trouble, I just _love_ when people do that. And _that_ was an intentional rhyme.”

Bellatrix couldn’t stand the overly confident expression on his painted face. She moved swiftly, punching him in the nose with her elbow. He punched right back with his fist to her temple, dropping her before she could draw her wand.

He held his dripping nose and rolled his shoulders. “Works every time,” he grinned at his men.

She had never been outright punched in the face before. Wizards just don't _do_ that.

The elevator doors opened, but she was still dazed on the floor. Two of the clowns picked her up by each elbow and dragged her with them. They were halfway to the getaway car when Bellatrix finally found her footing. She tried to touch her temple, it felt swollen, she was sure it was blue, but the men pulled her arms each to a side and she just couldn't overpower them.

Her head was pounding. The floor seemed skewed to a side for at least thirty degrees. She remembered the story about Tzar Ivan the Terrible and how he had killed his son by striking him on a temple. She didn't want her brain to fall out. These were just muggles, after all.

They threw her in the back of the van. She could hear the threads of her lace overdress ripping as she rolled and stopped once she hit the partition. Four of them climbed in with her.

“I hope you love surprises!” Joker singsonged before shutting the door.

Lying on her side, with pearls dropping from her hair from the destroyed hairdo every time she moved her head she hissed in the sudden darkness, “I _hate_ surprises.”

If she had just given them the necklace, this wouldn't have happened. If she had just given them the necklace, she would have let a muggle thief dominate her and she couldn't let that happen. She had killed Voldemort. She could deal with all of them.

That's what she told herself over the pounding of blood in her head. And then everything went dark.

BBRBW

“Alfred,” Bruce breathed the man's name in relief. He had just gotten out of his armour. Most of the guests were gone, some were still giving their statements to the police. “Alfred, I'm glad you're alright,” he said reaching the older man in few long strides.

Alfred was standing almost in the middle of the hall, in the perfect spot from where he could see the place where Batman and Joker fought, the broken window through which Rachel had fallen and Bruce had followed her, the side of the table against which Bellatrix had pressed up and the dead clown that Joker had laid at her feet, the path as he had dragged her with him, the elevator where she disappeared and never reappeared. “Master Bruce,” he forced a smile.

“Alfred, are you okay?” Bruce asked, concerned. “Where's Bella? Was someone else hurt?” he looked around as if he expected the answers to pop up out of thin air.

“He took Miss Rosier,” there was no easier or gentler way of saying it.

“What do you mean?” oh, he knew perfectly well what was implied and said, but he didn't want to believe it. If he believed it, he would have to believe that he had failed. He would have to think about how he could have been faster, spent less time with Rachel, how he should have known, how he just hadn't been there when he'd been needed.

He'd have to think why Bellatrix hadn't returned yet. She was magical, she frequently told him that she was a good fighter too, so the only conceivable explanation was... He looked at Alfred, eyes wide, desperate for some hope. Alfred had none to give.

“No, no,” Bruce shook his head. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” he looked around, desperately, hoping to suddenly see her somewhere, hoping against hope that she was okay, that she was here.

For a few moments nothing happened, and then he heard the slow hiss of opening elevator doors. He looked that way almost relieved, but it was Rachel who stepped out, catching his gaze, heading his way.

“Bruce, I have to talk to you. It's about Bellatrix,” her tone was crisp, worried and her expression was tight. It had hit her like a ton of bricks, the memory of what had happened more than ten years ago.

He almost ran to her. “Do you know where she is?”

“No,” Rachel replied, confused. “Of course not.”

Tension ran out of his whole body to the point he almost collapsed. “Then what is it?”

“Bruce are you okay?” she asked concerned. “Maybe you need to sit down?”

“No, I’m not okay” he replied honestly. “And I can stand.”

Rachel bit her lip, unsure how to start. For Bruce's sake she wanted to break the news to him gently but didn't really know how. How _can_ you tell someone that they've got a viper nestled against their chest? “What do you know about Bellatrix?”

“Everything,” he didn't hesitate with his reply.

Rachel chuckled, despite herself, despite the situation. “Nobody knows everything about another human being.” Not that Rachel was sure that Bellatrix was all that human. What the other woman had done was inhuman, and not just because it was supposedly impossible.

Bruce just looked at her. His eyes were tired as if he were a million years old.

Rachel hesitated for a moment. “There is something about Bellatrix that you do not know.”

“What is it?” there was absolutely no interest in his tone.

“She... She can _do_ things,” Rachel said empathically. “She did something to me.”

Bruce frowned. “Well, then. What did she do?”

“She did something to my head. She made me forget. I thought I'd never seen her before, but then later tonight after the fall I remembered that I _had_. When we were still kids. Around sixteen, I think. I saw her then – at your house and then I forgot. She made me forget.”

“Memories are tricky, Rachel. Are you sure...”?

“I'm absolutely sure, Bruce!” Rachel protested indignantly! “I'm not sure what she did, but she did that to me! I've no doubt about it!”

Bruce was silent for a moment. “Okay...”

Rachel waited for a moment more. When nothing was forthcoming, she almost blew up, “Okay?! And that's it? She violated my mind!” Rachel could continue with a string of offenses attachable to that statement, but she kept to the main point.

“What do you want _me_ to do about it?” he didn't mean to snap, but he was worried and his patience was wearing thin, and he didn't want to deal with this now, now none of that mattered. Rachel couldn't have chosen a worse moment to confront him about this if she had tried.

Rachel was stumped for a moment. She couldn't very well reply _'I want you to forget all about her too'_. It sounded too petty and selfish already in the privacy of her own mind. It's not that she couldn't decide between Bruce and Harvey and wanted them both. It wasn't. Not all of it. Bruce, despite everything, was her friend. She didn't want him to get hurt. “I don't know. I just thought you should know.”

“I know now.”

She pressed her lips tightly together, and then moved in closer, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. “What will you do now?”

He looked at her as if he didn't know her, much less understand. “I'll _find_ her.”

She didn't even ask if Bellatrix knew about him being Batman. “And then what?”

He narrowed his gaze. “What – _what then?”_

She shrugged. “What will you do then?” she repeated her question. She meant to imply that she'd be there for him when he'd tear all his ties with Bellatrix. She meant to imply that despite what had happened to her the witch didn't scare her, at least, not away from Bruce.

He exhaled, heavily. “I'm not... It's not...,” he took a moment to find the right words. “What she did is wrong, I won’t, and I can't justify it. In her own mind, she probably had her reasons. I may ask her someday about it, but... _Nothing._ I'll do nothing.”

What the hell did Rachel want him to do? Extract empty promises from Bella that she would never do that again? Not speak to her for a week and sulk? If he'd known what she did, he'd have tried to get her to reverse it – but he hadn’t, and he'll watch out for it in the future. But at the moment everything else but _finding Bella_ was secondary.

Rachel withdrew her hand as if burned. “But Bruce!” Then she moved closer again. “Bruce, I'm your friend. She _hurt_ me,” they were so close she felt that if he wanted to comfort her – he would kiss her. Her lips were parted, she quickly swiped her bottom lip with her tongue to wet it.

It was Rachel's pleading tone that did him in. Bruce saw none of the flirtation.

“I love _her_. She is _missing_ ,” the words rushed out without him thinking, but somehow the admission didn't surprise him, he continued almost without a pause, “and you said it yourself - that thing happened _years_ ago.”

“You _love_ her?” Rachel was both hurt and angry, she wasn't sure which more. “She can just do whatever she wants, and you'll forgive her? What if she sets fire to Gotham? What if she kills people? You said you'd protect Gotham. Would you throw it all away for her?! She just might be the biggest monster out there!” she spun on her heel and left, leaving all the accusations hanging heavily in the air.

Bruce closed his eyes. He couldn't bear to give voice to his answer.


	6. Without Magic

She was groggy. Her vision swam when she managed to force her eyes open. She knew she was lying down on her side, because the world seemed to be at a strange angle when she finally managed to blink the sleep away from her eyes. She was attempting to move around, to push an elbow beneath herself to rise higher when she heard just a few scattered phrases.

“This wasn't the deal. What the hell did you …”

“Stay, where are you going? We're not there yet. Not there yet.”

She opened her eyes wider and the darkness seemed to recede, and she saw more clearly. The back door of the truck was open just a little bit – it was bright outside. The Joker was pushing another masked guy back in the van. Then he saw her.

“Sleeping beauty already awake, tsk, tsk,” he grinned, pausing. Still forcing the door closed with one hand, he reached inside his jacket with another drawing out a capsule of some sort. “No prince here yet, go back to sleep,” he pulled the cap off and threw the thing inside. It smoked.

Intellectually she knew she had to move. She knew what she should do – she should jump for the capsule, throw it in Joker's face, smash her elbow in the other clown's nose, and force her way out of the van, kill them all with Avada Kedavra, burn them...

She had to escape. She couldn't move her body. All her limbs felt foreign. She didn't think she was paralysed, she felt them, but she could hardly move. She could hardly think, she felt slow and thick, and drowsy. When she breathed in all she could smell was the stench of smoke. She knew the specific smell but couldn't guess at the moment.

“No, let me out!” The guy in with her pushed at the door.

She fell back into unconsciousness at the sound of a muffled gunshot.

BBRBW

“Bruce, you have to sleep sometime,” Alfred said with a note of exasperation in his tone when the lift had lowered him in the underground lair. His steps were soft, but still echoed in the mostly empty space.

Bruce never lifted his eyes from the screens. His gaze darted forward and backward, occasionally, he typed a new search parameter hitting the keyboard furiously, but... No results. He heard Alfred approaching, but when he spoke it was as if he hadn't heard a word of what the older man had said, “There's nothing, Alfred. _Nothing._ ” He sighed heavily and moved his attention to another monitor. “How can there be nothing?”

“Master Wayne,” Alfred laid a comforting hand on Bruce's shoulder.

Bruce nearly jumped. He'd been aware that Alfred was here and at the same time he hadn't been. He felt shaken awake though Alfred had barely touched him. “Alfred,” his lips couldn’t even stretch to a pretend smile in greeting.

“You have to rest, Master Wayne,” Alfred repeated gently.

“It's been two days, Alfred,” he said his expression tight and pained. “There's nothing on the police scanners, nothing in the news, nothing, but the fact that they're looking for her too,” his shoulders were slumped. “There's nothing that I can find. I don't...”

“You're exhausted.”

Bruce opened his mouth to protest, but Alfred had raised him. Alfred knew. Even the corners of his mouth slumped down. “I can't stop,” he admitted.

“You have to, Master Bruce,” Alfred said softly. “Even if you do find her now, you will be no help at all until you have rested. Right now, a good breeze could keel you over.”

Bruce managed half a smile at that. “I've been to the mob. I've put a search through the footage of every CCTV camera in the city. I've …”

“You've done all you can for now,” Alfred assured him, remembering that first night when Miss Black had gone missing. Bruce hadn't returned until morning, his whole body a myriad of fresh bruises. He'd said he'd been hunting, but Alfred knew exactly what Bruce had meant. And it still had yielded no results. Nobody knew where Joker was so nobody knew where Bellatrix was.

“It's still too little.”

“But it is not too late, I'm sure of it,” Alfred countered.

“How can you know?” Bruce asked, his gaze dark and boring into Alfred.

There were a hundred platitudes he could give him, but Alfred settled for the truth. “Because we would know if it was otherwise. Joker wouldn't hesitate to broadcast it in some manner.”

Bruce knew that. _He had known that,_ but it still felt more real to hear Alfred say it too. A moment of relief was so dizzying it almost made him sick. She may not be dead. The moment passed and the next thought didn't make him feel any better. It still had been over two days. A lot can happen in two days. Bruce felt the relief evaporating, leaving him only with a sick feeling deep in his stomach.

BBRBW

To be honest, Joker had mostly forgotten about his guest. He had dumped her in a windowless room under constant surveillance, but the woman hadn't stirred for more than a day and it was no fun. He supposed he had over-judged the potency of the gas he had used, but then again, he hadn't really thought about it when he'd gassed her. He'd wanted her out for a while and during that while he had trifled with some other spur of the moment projects.

Now though he was getting reports that his little prisoner was awake, so he was skipping all the way to the monitoring room. The past day had been a bit dull. Though he had been amused for a moment while listening about Batman's rampage, but even that joy had died down, after all – he got the account second hand, but for it to last, he liked to enjoy such attentions himself.

He almost danced in his modest security centre and grabbed a microphone so he could speak to his new pet. “Welcome to my humble abode, Beauty,” he sniggered at the end. She was the Beauty; Batman was the Beast.

He watched as she whirled around in the centre of the bright, empty room pinpointing cameras. “Let me out,” she demanded without any attempt at banter. Joker was a bit disappointed. He had been forced to wait quite a while for this conversation.

“But you just came here,” he whined. “No, no, no. I don't think so.”

“I will get out and when I do...”

“Threats just don't look good on you,” he interrupted her. “And you're not getting out, but do smile pretty for the cameras, I am recording.”

He watched as she moved closer to one of the four cameras, rising on her toes to see closer, but even then, the camera was far out of her reach. “I was hoping Batsy would come for you – he's such an eager boy for that, but I think I might have thrown him for a loop. He can't seem to find this place. It's a bit of a disappointment, to be honest,” Joker confessed dropping into a chair and stretching luxuriously.

“How very sad,” it was a blatant lie.

Joker smacked his lips. “You lie badly. But it's okay. I think the viewers will more sympathise if you seem more like a good damsel in distress than a rude one.”

“Damsel in distress?” her tone was incredulous.

“Of course, my dear,” Joker tapped her figure on the screen. “You're going to die there.”

She looked over her shoulder, staring straight into the camera in the third corner near the door. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

Joker pressed a big, funny looking red button on a remote and from the vents the room Bellatrix was in started to fill with white gas. His scarred face twisted, his always smiling face was pouting. He had thought she'd be more fun. She had seemed to have more fight in her back at the penthouse.

But, oh well. He had a promise to fulfil and she had to die. _Every day until Batman comes forth and unmasks himself someone will die._

BBRBW

Bruce hadn't been sleeping long when Alfred woke him. Waking was a relief. Whatever sleep he had managed to have had been plagued by nightmares that he didn't remember once his heart stopped racing. He rose from the couch and heard his joints pop as he stretched walking towards the monitors. He hadn't left the underground garage space where the Tumbler was parked.

It was on every news channel. _“All of you think that you are so safe because Batman is protecting you. Because the Bat is patrolling the streets with Gotham's finest. All of you believe what you're told, because the most heroic story is always the most printed one, but ooooh, I'm going to educate you, Gotham.”_

Up until now all there was to be seen was an empty, windowless room with whitewashed walls, bright lights and nothing in it at all. And now heavy, white doors that seemed to blend in with the walls opened and a person was dragged in and dropped in the centre of the room. _“I'll fast forward, it's boring for a while.”_

Nothing seemed to change for a while even though the picture was grainy and shaky as it was forwarded and then the person in the film stood up, paced, seemed to be talking, but the film was moving fast, all the movements where jerky, up until white gas started pouring into room and filled it by half. _“Now, we're live,”_ Joker commented. “ _You see, Gotham. Not everybody gets to be saved. Batman had the chance to save this Beauty and he failed. He's not a man of his word. But I am. I promised you that somebody would die and here she dies.”_

It was nearly impossible to see the figure in the room as the white gas rose filling the space. _“Now, Gotham, I want Batman to come out and reveal himself or who knows whose daughter will be next. You have … Another day.”_ Tape suddenly cut short.

Bruce was pale, holding with one hand to the desk to keep standing. Every screen switched to a different news studio with their people commenting on the footage, but blood was roaring in his ears, he didn't hear a thing. “Bellatrix...”

“You don't know that,” Alfred protested.

Bruce nearly gave himself a whiplash as he turned his head to glare at Alfred. “I know. I know. It was her.”

Alfred couldn't in good conscience say that it meant nothing – that there still might be hope. He wasn't one for false comfort. He moved towards Bruce, intending to grasp his shoulder, show support in some way, “I'm so sorry, Master Wayne.”

Without looking Bruce hit a few keystrokes and muted the recorded video that had been broadcasted on every channel and played it again on his numerous monitors. He stepped out of Alfred's way not wanting to be comforted. “That happened,” his expression was hard, his gaze pinned to the screen. “While I was sleeping,” his tone full of self-loathing.

BBRBW

When the room started to fill with gas, she covered her mouth with her hand. When it was half full, she dropped to the floor and in the cover of the gas drew her wand and performed the Bubblehead charm. She laid on the floor calmly waiting for the whole room to fill so that the cameras would be covered. She couldn't perform magic where they recorded, though, she guessed there was a good chance that the one charm she had already done had screwed with the tape.

Once the air was thick and white in the room - she rose to her feet and from memory sent a Reducto to each camera in the room destroying them. Then she blew up the door that held her prisoner. The door exploded outwards with noise and sharp wooden shards digging into the walls of the hallway.

Her hair was a mess and her dress was ripped – the overdress was unsalvageable, tiny pearls still clung between the folds of clothing sometimes slipping free and falling to the ground. She tentatively reached for her neck. She could feel the weight of the pearls around her neck, but it was good to touch them and know them to be whole as well.

_'Now then,'_ she grinned feeling a bit drunk on power and success. She was free to go. She was free to destroy them all and take her revenge. The fools thought they had captured the damsel in distress, but she felt giddy at how she was going to prove them so very, very wrong. She could be the Beast of the story.

They had taken her and luck had shined upon them, she hadn't been accustomed to their crude tactics, she had been curbed by the fact that they were muggles and the Statute of Secrecy, but now she was going to kill them all.

She sashayed out of her cell. Her head was clear, her wand was in her hand, her steps were long and sure, and the heels of her shoes clicked ominously against the floor. She didn't waste time. She AK'ed the first two clowns that she met and moved on without a second thought though a few minutes later when the exaltation settled a bit and she realized that some deception might be in order.

After all it was entirely plausible that while she was on her killing spree some wretch might escape nonetheless and she hadn't lain on that cold concrete floor for half an hour pretending to be dead just so rumour could spread of her fantastic escape by herself. Such a good thing that a prospective saviour was already at the top of her mind.

She tried conjuring an illusion of him while in an empty hallway making her way up towards exit, but it failed – didn't seem tangible enough and on short notice she couldn't do better. That made her angry, because Muggles could achieve the same thing with smoke and mirrors more convincingly, but then perhaps she didn't need a man, she just needed the symbol. She conjured several flocks of bats and sent them roaming the halls ahead of her. The next clown she killed she took his jacket and transfigured it into a black, hooded cloak and covered herself with it to help with the masquerade.

According to the old emergency exit maps posted along walls - this was an abandoned storehouse near the river, and she was in the basement. She moved up and killed every clown she met, destroyed every camera she saw. None of the men she killed died easily, they all tried to shoot her or rush at her with a knife or their combat trained bodies, but none ever got within few feet of her. Avada Kedavra silenced everyone easily.

The spell wasn't easy normally, but it felt easy on her lips today. Hate wasn't as much what drove it – Crucio was for that, for killing the sense of its rightness was important. The knowledge, the complete certainty that you knew what you were doing and that you meant to do it. Bellatrix was riding a wave of righteous rage. She was the hunter and they were her prey. She was the Minotaur, and this was her maze.

After an empty hallway where she met no one and a staircase where she once again encountered no one, and then finding the entire main floor of the storehouse empty – she stopped. Curved metal ceiling hovered high above her and her caution eclipsed her anger. Something didn't feel right. Joker should be running at her.

She wanted to kill all these clowns to rid herself and Bruce of them, but she also needed to get to the security room and destroy the footage. She was sure that most of the mechanics had gone haywire after all the curses that she had already thrown around, but she needed to be completely sure. Magic couldn’t be exposed – whoever had seen it was marked for death and any other evidence was to be destroyed.

So far Bellatrix had been balancing on a fine line of anonymity through the blank diplomatic pass she had issued for herself for legal magical entry into USA, but besides border crossing (and Merlin, she had received official complaint to Minister’s office after Sirius’ blood oath Apparition) – she had other secrets to keep. Bruce knew of Wizarding World. Alfred. Lucius. She had smuggled dragon-hide into the country. She couldn’t afford the attention that would be brought down on Gotham should magic be exposed here.

She had to give up the immediate hunt for her captor.

The monitor room was empty when she got there. All but one camera screen was black. It was the outside security camera showing the Joker at the very edge of it quite a way away from this factory. He smiled, waved, and pressed a ridiculous red button.

Bellatrix had just a moment before the whole building went up in flames.

BBRBW

Alfred didn't know what to do. This was a rare occurrence. There were a hundred things he might do, but none of them appealed to him. What he wanted was for there to be any words that he might say to Bruce to give him some consolation, some manner of peace.

He had raised the boy. He had cared for him since the day he was born, and Alfred loved him as a child of his own. It broke him to watch Bruce throw himself at this city only to be spit out more broken and damaged every time. Come to think of it – he hated this city. This city that took so much and never gave back. This city that managed to destroy every Wayne and those that they cared for. Alfred had seen too many Waynes swallowed by Gotham – Bruce's grandparents and their brothers and sisters, Bruce's parents, Alfred didn't want to live to see Bruce end up in a patch of grass on the manor grounds as well. Bruce was the last Wayne.

And Gotham was merciless. Alfred sat in Bruce's chair and watched the Joker's video. He wanted to unsee what he had seen. To look and to be able to tell Bruce that it wasn't Miss Black that died in that room. Of all the people in Gotham, Joker had managed to take the one that mattered most and strike where it could kill.

“Alfred,” Bellatrix spoke, her voice loud and sharp as the crack of a whip.

Alfred rose to his feet almost automatically to turn and look upon a ghost. Because he thought she was a ghost in the first moment of surprise. Her face was drawn and tired, but with mental and physical strength failing, he still saw steel shining through. Her exquisite dress was ripped in places and looked almost like a rag. Her hair was a mess and she looked like she was hardly standing with hands placed at hips holding herself up just because she was Bellatrix Black. She looked real.

He walked up to her and hugged her without really saying a word.

“Alfred,” her tone showed her confusion, but a bit awkwardly she did hug him back. She hadn't thought that the man had warmed up to her that much, but it was good to know that he didn't think her an interloper in his and Bruce's lives. “Alfred, I was at the penthouse, but no one was there. I'm looking for Bruce.”

He released her, but still stayed at an arm's length. “And he's been looking for you, Miss Black. You've been gone two days and we've thought you dead.”

“What?!” It took a moment to try and make sense of that. “Why would you think that?”

She was ready to concede that it might have been a few days - she hadn't been able to keep track of time, but to assume that she was dead… Why would they do that? She had intentionally tried to fake her death once and that had failed, so why would someone believe her dead when she actually didn't want or orchestrate that? She felt an oncoming headache and absent-mindedly recalled a phrase about being careful what one wishes for.

Alfred showed her the video. And looked at her questioningly.

“Yes,” she replied to the unvoiced question. “He did say that he was filming.” She hadn't thought that the clown would air the footage as well. She hoped that the video was were all the recording ended or there would be bigger problems. “Where's Bruce?”

“He found where you were being held albeit too late. He's there at the moment. It seems that the building is burning down.”

Bellatrix nodded. She had known the warehouse was about to explode when she had Apparated out. “Thank you, Alfred.” She managed a smile for him. “I best not tarry anymore.”

Then she Apparated away.

BBRBW

Batman stood on the roof of an abandoned storage unit by the river. Just below him was the wreckage where another one just like this one had stood. Firemen weren't battling the flames, they just contained them and waited them out. They were all just spectators and he was the only one that knew what he was looking at.

He'd analysed Joker's video through every programme he had and there wasn't much, there wasn't anything but that room, but after measuring every parameter in the room and dismissing all non-commercial and usable buildings in Gotham the search had narrowed to a whole patch of identically built warehouses in the late seventies. The incomplete database of Gotham City Building and Planning department couldn't give him a more precise answer than that, but according to the plans – the room fit by size, by placement of the vents the fact that the walls were concrete, meaning, guessing that it was underground.

When he heard that there was a storage unit burning, he knew which one of the two dozen was the one he needed.

He stood on the roof still as a statue. He already knew what the firemen would find after searching the building. The warehouse was her fiery grave. It would be at least two more days before the news caught of this.

“Bruce.”

He shuddered. He was imagining things now. He gazed at the flames below thinking how he thought he had heard her voice speak to him through the wind.

Bellatrix snapped her jaws closed audibly. Unbelievable! She had spoken clear as day and the man hadn’t even turned to look at her.

The roof was curved and walking it wasn't easy, but at the moment her vision almost tunnelled leaving him the only centre and the only way. She almost flew to him, knocking him on the shoulder though she doubted he felt much through Batman's armour. She grasped him by shoulder, wanting to turn him to her, force him to look at her, but in that moment, she lost her balance on the roof in her high heel shoes and slipped.

Before she could fall, he caught her. His arms tightened around her as he finally realized what he was seeing, who he was holding. “I..” his voice seemed lost; his embrace became tighter.

She smiled. Relieved and happy – the emotion sapped all her remaining strength. It was silly how her heart felt like fluttering in her chest. She had killed many men today and never once she had felt anything less than completely sure, but Bruce, being with him made her feel things that she wasn't even sure existed.

Being with him was surreal. She felt safe though the notion was ridiculous, she could take care of herself. She felt peaceful and happy, not content, but genuinely happy, and she felt like a firecracker. Like every nerve ending was on fire and it didn't hurt, it just made her want to laugh, to press herself against him and never let go.

“Silly man,” she said softly tracing the lines of his mouth, the only part of him that wasn't in armour. “I'm not that easy to kill.”

“I thought... The video, it wasn't you?” his gruff Batman voice sounded even rougher than usual.

“It was me,” she said nodding her head, cupping his face in her palms. “But I'm a witch, Bruce,” she said as if reminding him. “I'm okay,” she pulled him closer for a kiss.

His mask was cold and solid against her face, but his lips were warm and greedy. He crushed her closer and didn't let go until she drew away for a breath and even then, he didn't let her go, his face hidden in the crook of her neck.

“You were away for two days, Bellatrix,” his whisper was rough, and his hot breath tickled a bit. “I couldn't find you and I didn't...”

She'd rub his back, but chances were that he wouldn't feel a thing through the armour, so she just clung to him and let him cling to her. “It's alright, it's over, I'm okay,” she couldn't remember the last time she had comforted anyone. The last time she had wanted to make someone feel better, the last time it had been so important. “I was a bit out of it for a while and then I just waited for my best chance. Joker escaped me, though.”

“I don't care about the clown.”

“You should,” she countered. “He'll come after you again.”

Bruce straightened, but did not release her. He didn't want to talk about Joker. “How did you find me here?” He wanted to go home with her. He wanted to lock the bedroom doors behind them and leave the rest of the world on the other side.

Her gaze narrowed. She recognized a clumsy attempt at diversion when she saw one. “Alfred,” she answered shortly. With adrenaline dying down in her system the inevitable pangs of hunger made her a bit cross. Also, she felt herself sagging more and more in his arms – it had been days since she’d drank, eaten, and she had spent quite a lot of magical energy on a killing spree.

“Let's go home,” he suggested softly. His gloved hand ghosted over the pearls around her neck. She was alive and well. He finally felt allowed to be tired. He was exhausted and wrung out after the last couple of days, but finally he was at peace.

“Yes. Let's,” she grasped him close and Apparated. The conversation about Joker wasn't over, but she could let it rest for a while just like they needed to rest and reconnect. It had been a long few days.

BBRBW

Bellatrix looked at the camera, her whole being tense and visibly agitated, her dark eyes misty as if she was holding back tears, but with the way she was clutching Bruce's hand, him sitting beside her, she seemed utterly sincere. “I would like to thank Batman from the bottom of my heart. He saved me. He brought me home,” she shared a look with Bruce when she mentioned _home._

“Miss Rosier, I know this must be very hard for you. Can you share some details of your terrible ordeal with us?” the morning talk-show host on Gotham's most popular TV channel asked.

Bellatrix was conscious that the show was being filmed live and afterwards gossip magazines and busybodies will print and reprint this whole interview. After all, it was why she had wanted to do this. “I don't remember much to be honest. It all happened so fast and I was unconscious for the most of it. They drugged me with something putting me to sleep. I woke for sure only in that terrible room. Batman saved me when I already thought I had no hope.”

Bruce kept his expression solemn trying hard not to laugh. Bellatrix was an excellent actress. Her palm was clasped in his hand as if she held on to him for support. Their joined hands were resting on his knee for all the cameras and people to see.

“We've heard accounts that you tried to stand up to the masked robbers when they were at Mr. Wayne's party,” the host prompted. She was a middle-aged woman with rich, curly blond hair and easy manner. It wasn't hard to see why she was such a popular media person.

“I know it was foolish,” Bellatrix admitted with an abashed smile, moving her arm to draw the attention that she was still holding to Bruce. He squeezed her fingers back. “But...,” she lightly touched the pearls around her neck with her other hand. “It seemed so important at the moment. I didn't think.”

Bruce decided that it was time for him to join this spectacle more actively, “Sweetheart, no jewels are as precious to me as you,” he said in a low voice his whole body half turned towards her.

A single theatrical tear slid down her cheek after she blinked and bit her tongue to keep her composure.

“Batman has my eternal gratitude as well,” Bruce continued never moving his gaze from her. “For bringing you back to me.”

The host smiled benevolently. With such sugary sweet admissions this morning's show would be this week's number one, if not the whole month's considering the people involved. “Thank you so much Miss Rosier and Mister Wayne for joining us this morning.”

“Thank you,” Bellatrix thanked inly. “It's very important that people of Gotham know that Batman is protecting us and we're,” she threw a sweet look at Bruce and almost absent-mindedly and discreetly rubbed her lower tummy, but not so much that the cameras or the host wouldn't notice, “safe,” she finished with a straight smile at the camera.

BBRBW

“Bella,” Bruce said as a way of starting conversation as they climbed into the Lamborghini at the front entrance of the studio where a small crowd had already gathered. “Is there something I don't know?”

She put the seatbelt on procrastinating a bit. “What do you mean?” she asked thinking of the whole mess with her sisters and Lucius Malfoy back in Britain.

“Was it just a trick for the media or …” he started the car, driving off. “Are you pregnant?” It was hard enough to get the question out; he wasn't sure what to think of it much less what to feel.

Bellatrix laughed. “I'm glad that you caught on, I hope many others do too.”

It was probably wrong to feel disappointed. “What do you mean?” he asked when he felt more like asking – why did you do it?

“Well, I wanted this interview to draw attention away from the mystery of how I escaped, but I added _that_ to draw attention from Batman as well. The less they think on how it's possible the better,” she explained sliding lower in her seat. “The common bored person will be much more happy picking and pointing at photoshopped pictures of me showing that I have a baby bump and picking out our children's names or wedding dates than using logic to find the way out of the puzzle box that is the rest of that fiasco.”

There was a pause of stretched silence as she waited for him to say something before continuing. “I'd rather be asked ten thousand times whether I'm pregnant or not in public than be accosted with questions whether Batman is sexy up close and what I think of him or who he might be. This way there's less room for slip up.”

Bruce smirked. “You think Batman's sexy?”

But now that the theme had been brought up, he found it hard to stop thinking about it. A baby. He swallowed hard throwing a short look sideways at Bella. Would he ever get to have a child with her? Would she want to? At this moment he painfully realized that – _he would_ want to.

BBRBW

Narcissa swayed lightly lulling Draco into sleep. She had fed him just a short time ago, and she had waited until he burped, and she'd swaddled him in new cotton diaper before dressing him, and now she tried to remember the words of a lullaby that her mother had sung to her. She did everything to concentrate on her boy so that she wouldn't have to look at her sister.

“Narcissa... Please,” Andromeda begged.

Narcissa tried to ignore her. She hummed tonelessly, swaying, every once in a while, smiling at her child and correcting the blanket she had wrapped around Draco. She didn't want to be here – in this room with Andromeda. She had avoided the part of the house where Lucius kept her. To be honest – Narcissa had simply kept to her own bedroom and the adjoined room that was Draco's nursery, but today her husband had asked her to wait on him in the living room and here she was. She and Andromeda.

“Cissy...”

“What?!” Narcissa snapped angrily almost waking Draco. She had caught a quick look at Andromeda, but she didn't want to look more, she turned away to stare at the fireplace instead.

“Cissy, please, you have to help me,” Andromeda pressed her advantage. She had despaired when Narcissa steadily ignored her, but now that she had managed to get one word out of her sister, she knew she could get more.

“Help you?”

“Cissy, I beg you... I'm afraid. Please, help me,” Andromeda slid from the couch to the floor on her knees.

Narcissa whirled around the soft material of her gown swishing around her legs. “What exactly do you want from me?” she hissed, finally taking a good look at her elder sister. Andromeda's long hair was tangled and dirty, her eyes were red rimmed from crying and her face was pale. Otherwise Andy looked whole and still very much pregnant.

“Help me,” Andromeda repeated her plea. “Please, Cissy. I want to go home.”

Of course. Why shouldn't her sister ask the moon from the sky while she was at it? “I can't help you,” Narcissa replied. “I won't,” she added, her eyes hard.

“Narcissa,” the name was a broken cry on Andromeda's lips. “Please! There is no one else I can ask.”

Narcissa gritted her teeth. She would not apologize. “That's a shame.”

“How can you say that? You're my sister!” Andy became nearly hysterical. “They're going to hurt my baby! Your precious husband – he will hurt me, me, and your niece, are you really going to just watch and let it happen? You're my sister, Narcissa, please! I know that you have never had a great love for me, but for our mom and our dad, please...”

Narcissa became angry at that. “You little fool!” she spat clutching her son to her chest. “You don't have to repeat it – I know you are my sister,” anger seemed to suddenly seep out of her leaving her harrowed, but kinder. “And I do love you. You and Bellatrix, and even Father, but it is you all who just don't understand. You are all wrong. Wrong about Lucius, wrong about our whole world. And you must admit – you've been bad,” she finished with a significant look at her sister's belly.

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Andromeda asked incredulously. “I married a man that I love, and I bear his child what on earth is wrong with that?”

“Theodore is a mudblood,” Narcissa replied calmly.

“There's no more mud in his blood than in ours. It is rubbish, Narcissa. The whole idea about blood purity – it's obscene and ridiculous.”

Narcissa sighed. “You do that child more evil than good by bringing it into this world.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because it's true,” Lucius spoke softly entering the room. “You are from a pure and noble line and you've soiled the gifts of your ancestors by contorting with that halfwit and to add insult to injury you are bearing that abomination.”

Narcissa beamed when she saw her husband. Andromeda shrunk back against the couch as much as she could. Malfoy hadn't raised a hand to her nor his men, but she was terrified of him. She still had nightmares of the first night she had been here, she had woken upon a stone desk or an altar, she'd seen drawings on the floor and hooded men chanting. Andromeda remembered blood flowing from her wrists and her child kicking and kicking and kicking inside her. She remembered pain as if she was being ripped apart and despair as she thought she was losing her baby. Most of all she remembered the smell of cypress. Death. Mourning. Sorrow. Sometimes she thought that it had been just a dream, sometimes – when she looked in Malfoy's hard, pale face she knew that it had truly happened.

“My child is not an abomination! If there's one in this room, it's you,” Andy spat.

Lucius smiled; his pale lips drawn tight. “No, my dear. You're the one who has shamed her family. I do wonder whether Lady Black's sisterly love to you has got something to do with her blindness towards how utterly disgusting your so-called marriage to that half-muggle is.”

“Theodore is a wizard,” Andromeda had her hands over her stomach as if protecting her child, but she was no Narcissa, she wouldn't sit and listen to that demented man insulting her family.

“He is an accident,” Lucius countered. “As is your child, but that's one mistake I've corrected, you will see in time that you also share the punishment, but considering you went freely into this situation and union, it is only fitting you suffer for it as well.”

“What do you mean?” Andromeda demanded, her voice trembling. “What have you done to me? What have you done to my child?”

“Nothing reversible and something utterly necessary,” Lucius replied softly moving over to his wife. He laid a hand across Narcissa's shoulders and kissed her lightly on the brow. “You will be the first lesson to this world.”

“Narcissa!” Andy appealed to her sister.

Safe in her husband's arms Narcissa watched Andy dispassionately. She saw nothing wrong with her sister. It didn't look like a hair on her head had been harmed, and if she was to suffer a punishment, then considering the crime, Narcissa thought it utterly deserved. “You want my help, my advice _now_ when you never listened to me before did you?” Narcissa demanded.

“Cissy...”

“I told you, I told you what you should do. I told you to abandon that boy and marry well. I told you what was expected of us. I told you how our world works. I did all that I was supposed to do and look at me – not even Bellatrix can touch me.”

“Bellatrix agreed, she gave me her blessing...,” Andromeda protested.

“Lady Black perhaps is not fit to be the Head of House Black, but as magic contracts go unfortunately that can't be helped as long as she lives. She has been away from our world for far too long. Her lenience does not excuse your behaviour.”

“I don't need your pardon,” Andromeda snapped, awkwardly rising to her feet.

“Alas, there you are mistaken,” Lucius said pleasantly.

Draco yawned loudly in Narcissa's arms, opening his blue eyes, waking up. Lucius smiled at his pure-blooded son. “You can go back to your rooms, dearest,” he kissed his wife's temple. “You've done wonderfully.”

Narcissa frowned not understanding. Had this whole spectacle been the only reason Lucius wanted her down here? Surely, he wouldn't do that to her. He knew she wanted nothing to do with her birth Family. “But why did you want me here?”

“I'm sorry, my love, your sister is gravely ill with those insipid ideals about muggles and I thought that meeting you would help her. I'm sorry that that is not the case.”

Narcissa stared at her husband's remorseful face and she believed him, still. “You knew I didn't want anything to do with her or the rest of them.”

Andromeda stared unbelieving. Her sisters’ words hurt, especially, as it looked like they weren't even meant for her ears. Narcissa talked to Lucius as if Andy wasn't even in the room anymore. It reminded Andromeda how she had sometimes acted similarly as a child – drawing Bellatrix's attention solely to herself.

“I apologize, my Lady,” Lucius said courteous as ever. “I only thought to help your poor sister. Her mind is ill with these strange thoughts. I had a vain hope I could bring her to reason and ease the wounds you bear from the estrangement to you Family.”

Narcissa managed a small smile at the explanation. “I know you only mean well.”

She loved her husband, but more than that she needed him. He had been the only person in a very long time who had given all his attention to her. He was the man who had provided her with a home and a Family; a Family where she was wanted and needed. He never raised his voice much less hands to her. He never said an unkind word. And she was a good wife to him.

She always did as he asked, and she rarely questioned him, after all, why should she? He had looked at the least boisterous of Black sisters, he had looked at all of them and he had chosen her. Her and not Bellatrix – the Lady Black, the Minister, the prodigy of the Family and Priestess of Dark Magic, and not Andromeda who was beautiful and funny, and lively where to all that Narcissa was sometimes shy and restrained, and tended to blend in not stand out.

“Go,” he urged softly. “I'll join you in a moment.”

Narcissa left the living room without another look at her sister. Once the doors had closed Lucius' grin became more manic. “There went your last and only hope.”

“You've poisoned her mind,” Andy snarled so vehemently that she managed to spit on the floor.

“I most certainly did not!” Lucius protested drawing his wand. “Though I did twist it a little. And I daresay it wasn't hard.”

“What are you doing?” Andromeda stepped back trying to increase the distance between them. She swayed, bumping into the coffee table before retreating further.

“What I said,” he said sneering. “I'll make an example of you. It's high time I reminded all those morons out there that I'm not sitting idly.”

“No...”

“Stupefy,” he said, and Andromeda dropped to the floor. He stood over her fallen body and looked at his own reflection in the mirror. He adjusted his collar before moving his attention back to Andromeda. “It would probably have hurt less if you'd just stayed on the couch. Idiot.”

“McNair!” he called. A moment later a pale slip of a wizard rushed into the room. “I think it's time we sent Lady Black a birthday present, wouldn't you agree?”

McNair looked at the unconscious woman and a red, bloody grin spread across his face.

BBRBW

After dinner it was quiet in the penthouse. Bruce was away on his evening patrol, stalking Gotham city, while Bellatrix and Alfred played a game of chess. It was a calm ordinary evening, one that seemed to herald an endless row of similar ones and Bella found that she didn't mind - especially since Alfred was a rather vicious player and each victory was hard won.

It was the soft cling of the elevator that disturbed them. Bellatrix rose to her feet going to greet Bruce, an unconscious smile already lighting up her face. She was surprised that he was back so early, but undoubtedly glad. However, the person she ran into when she rounded the corner was Rachel. “The security downstairs let me in. They know me,” she explained without being asked. “Can we talk for a moment?”

Alfred was already looming around the corner so instead of commenting the future career of the guardsmen on the ground floor Bella grit her teeth and nodded her acquiescent. “Let's move closer to the balcony. Gotham is divine at night from this height.”

Rachel greeted Alfred politely as she passed him and then both women moved to a quieter corner. Rachel dropped into an armchair without waiting for a specific invitation. “We have to talk,” her tone was just shy of hostile.

“Enlighten me,” Bellatrix said sitting down with more grace. She took in all of Rachel's appearance. The other woman was in her work clothes – a classic black costume, her hair done up leaving the overall impression of a professional, career government employee, and she had obviously come at a time she had expected Bruce to be out. Bellatrix found that she was looking forward to this conversation.

“I know what you did to me,” Rachel came out straight.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Bella watched Rachel lazily through half-hooded, cautious eyes leaning back in her armchair comfortably. She guessed well enough that the memory of that unfortunate afternoon all those years ago had finally resurfaced.

“I think you do,” Rachel leaned forward, her presence forceful and strong.

“If that were the truth then I would wonder whether it's courage or idiocy that makes you confront me.”

“Friendship,” Rachel said empathetically, her whole body moving to accentuate that one word.

“You and I have never been friends, Miss Dawes,” Bellatrix commented almost gently. She had known Rachel almost as long as she had known Bruce – there was a difference by one day, and yet she had never warmed up to Rachel. Bella wondered whether her dislike of Rachel wasn't similar in its roots to her general indifference for Narcissa.

“I meant Bruce,” Rachel said. She reigned from her armchair like a queen – both elbows on the armrests, poised as a rattlesnake ready to strike.

Bellatrix crossed one leg over the other completely composed and almost cavalier. “Then that's how they're now calling it.”

“What are you talking about?” Rachel demanded feeling as she did in court when she suspected that a witness was trying to skirt around the truth.

“I was under the general impression that friends stand up for friends, and that they don't ditch them, because of public pressure or persona,” Bella spoke easy, airily as if recounting an entry from Wikipedia. “Generally, I kind of thought that being friends meant caring for the other person rather than wanting to possess them, because they would be such a shiny, powerful toy,” her gaze was hard, pining Rachel in her seat. “Not to mention that I was under the assumption that friends don't make promises only to break them a day later with another guy, but I must have been mistaken. The whole thing about placing your friend's well-being over your own, must be overrated, right, Rachel?”

Rachel felt heat rising in her face and just knew that she had blushed. She hated it. She had nothing to blush over. And how did the woman know this much? Had Bruce told her something? “It's not what you think, and I don't have to explain myself to you.”

“You most certainly don't,” Bellatrix agreed graciously. Her tone was sweet and polite, but her eyes were boring into Rachel as a pair of drills. “You're a free woman, unless of course you've accepted Harvey Dent's proposal?”

“I don't see how that's any of your business,” Rachel replied sharply, wondering whether Bellatrix had her followed.

“By association,” Bellatrix's smile was venomous. “As long as you have something to do with Bruce you will have to deal with me as well, but rest assured, you shall never hurt him again like you've done in the past.”

“I've never hurt Bruce!” Rachel protested heatedly. She opened her mouth to say something more, but Bellatrix beat her to that.

“You broke his heart. Twice. Never again,” her tone was merciless. If there were things that she would never be able to forgive – that were slights against those she considered hers.

“I've never! I don't know...”

“Exactly. You didn't even notice,” Bellatrix stopped glaring at Rachel. And she stopped using Legilimency to prey for surface thoughts.

Rachel's eyes flamed along with her blood pressure. “You may think that you're protecting him. You may imagine that you are exactly what he wants or needs, but that doesn't change who you are. You're a monster.”

“Please, do continue,” Bella gestured with her hand. “There are so many more adjectives after all. I'm what? An abnormality? Barbarian? A beast? A demon or devil? Horror come to live. A fiend and a freak. Savage. Perhaps a villain and that would make you the damsel in distress? Would you like that?”

“You try to make light of it, but it doesn't change anything. You erased my memories.”

Tiring of the game, Bellatrix admitted the fact to see how Rachel would react. “And quite a feat that was, considering I was only a projection of myself at the time.”

For a moment Rachel was stupefied, shocked into silence by the admission, but she twined her fingers together and composed herself quickly. “Why did you do it?” she asked softly.

“To be honest? Because you annoyed me.”

“You're lying,” Rachel responded immediately without blinking and without second guessing her instinct.

“You presume a lot,” Bellatrix noted, but in a way, she was pleased. Rachel was clever. This would be far more tedious otherwise. It didn't mean that Bella suddenly acquired a soft spot for the girl, though.

“No, I just spend most of my days putting criminals behind bars and I know a lie when I see one. You lie well, but it was a lie nonetheless,” Rachel explained the fight in her settling down.

Bellatrix smiled lightly but didn't comment. Outside the sky was pitch black, but lights were on all over the city making it seem a city of fireflies.

“I won't ask. You will just tell me another lie if pressed,” Rachel observed a moment later.

Bella nodded in agreement, “True enough.” There was no reason for her to explain why hadn't wanted Bruce to know that other people could see her at the time. There was no reason to explain anything at all – it was between her and Bruce, and she had already told him.

“Where does that leave us?” Rachel asked. To be honest as she was riding up in the elevator Rachel had been half certain that once she confronted Bellatrix the woman would attack her.

“You tell me,” if Rachel was going to be a problem Bellatrix was going to Obliviate her again and do it properly this time. She was well aware that Bruce probably wouldn't be happy with her if she did it and he found out about it, but a) who's to say that he would find out about it and b) if Rachel would persist on being a headache then, well, there was quite no other way short of feeding her to the fish in the bay, and that would make Bruce even more disagreeable. If he found out. Bellatrix smiled wolfishly.

“Despite what you think, I really do wish only the best for Bruce. I know I've made mistakes with him, but... I have many excuses and none at the same time. I care for him. A lot. I don't want to see him hurt by you. Or anyone else for that matter,” Rachel said honestly. “I don't want to see anyone hurt by you. Your manner is easy enough, but you're dangerous. I know what you did to me.”

“Let me ask you one question,” when Rachel nodded her agreement, Bellatrix continued, “When you came here tonight – why did you come? What was your objective?”

Rachel thought for a moment. “I wanted to confront you. To tell you that I know what you are and see how you would defend yourself.”

“And, how did I?” Bellatrix asked genuinely curious.

“You didn't, but I think I can live with it.” Rachel paused. “I will be watching you, though, and I don't care what you think you can do and what you actually can do – I will not see you drag Bruce down to your level. He's a good man. He deserves the best.”

“He has me.”

BBRBW

The penthouse was quiet and the clock stroke midnight. Bellatrix stretched as she rose from her chair. She was the only person in the penthouse. Bruce had called Alfred a few hours ago – complaining, among other things, that after all they'd been through, he still didn't have Bella's phone number, and saying that he'd be late this night.

Apparently, Joker had murdered two men tonight and threatened the Mayor. Bellatrix found that she really didn't care about that, but Bruce was acting as if land was burning under his feet, her hero. This time she just checked that Bruce wasn't about to go somewhere where people might try to kill him – he assured her that he had tests to run down at the Tumbler testing garage, and when Alfred left to join him, Bellatrix calmly sat down in the office she had taken from Bruce and set about doing her own paperwork.

Or rather she had tried to do paperwork – for two whole hours until it was midnight when she decided to drop it all. She wasn't worried, per se. She wondered if this was how Bruce had felt when she'd been missing. There was a feeling of unease coiled like a nest of black, slimy snakes at the pit of her stomach.

She tried to rationalize it as she was getting ready for bed. She knew he could take care of himself. She had seen him handle himself in a fight. She knew he was smart. She knew he was able. Hell, tonight he wasn't even doing anything dangerous, but running tests with Alfred. No matter what she told herself the knot of anxiety did not loosen.

She climbed into the bed thinking that she had to find a way to deal with this – to get rid of this feeling, because the problem, uncharacteristically, was with her. Bruce wouldn't stop being Batman and she wouldn't ask. It would be like him asking her to stop doing magic. She just had to get herself in check. Worrying, after all, had never done anyone any good.

Despite all her self-assurances, she still slept more easily once Bruce joined her at about three in the morning.

An hour later they were awakened by a loud noise like the crack of a whip.

“What?!” Bruce sat up going from asleep to awake in a matter of seconds. He froze, though, when he saw what was hovering at the foot of their bed. Bellatrix was slower to wake and when she dragged herself up, holding on Bruce's shoulder and saw the intruder - she huffed and wanted nothing more than to drop back into the mattress.

“Fawkes,” Bellatrix pronounced the name as if it had a foul taste in her mouth.

“Bella, that's ...” Bruce felt like a child who was at a carnival for the first time and desired to point at everything shiny with his finger. He restrained himself, though.

“A flaming chicken, yes,” Bellatrix agreed before addressing the bird itself, “What do you have, Fawkes?”

The bird chirped a thrilling melody that wiped away Bellatrix's sleepiness, but not tiredness. “What do you have for me, Fawkes?” she repeated, because the bird wouldn't have visited on his own, he had a message and it probably wasn't good news. She just wished that this bad news had arrived at a more humane hour.

“It's beautiful,” Bruce said wonderingly when Fawkes flew closer to drop a letter in Bella's lap. He reached to touch the bird and Fawkes let him, stretching wings and obviously pleased to be admired.

“It's a phoenix,” Bella told him absent-mindedly, reaching backwards to switch on the lights so that she could read this mail of utmost importance at four in the morning, according to the watch on the night-stand.

“A phoenix? Those are real?” Bruce asked glancing at her while Fawkes had moved closer to the man, enjoying his attention.

“As are unicorns, dragons and a whole lot of other beasts, didn't I tell you already?” she asked breaking the seal on the letter. The seal was Minister's. The letter was from Sirius. It seemed that Dumbledore wasn't the only one who used this _'precious, magical miracle'_ as a post owl.

“Yes, but to see one, it's … Amazing. How did it find us? I thought nobody knows where you are?”

“He,” Bellatrix corrected. “The chicken is a he. Name's Fawkes. And phoenixes are the only birds that can find you anywhere if they know you and if they want to. Fortunately, they are very, extremely rare birds,” Bella explained unfolding the letter. Her teasing smile was all teeth as she looked at Fawkes, “I wonder why.”

Fawkes chirped, flapping his wings and disappeared with a loud, fiery crack smouldering the blanket on Bella’s side. Bruce chuckled. “I don't think he likes you very much.”

“I'm an acquired taste. He has none,” she quipped before turning her attention to the letter.

“What is it?” he asked about the letter, leaning in closer, drawing one arm around her to pull her closer.

Bella told him as she read, “It's from my cousin. … My sister's been found,” she left out the part where Sirius had written that they'd found Andromeda tied to a statue in the middle of Diagon Alley. “She seems alright, but she's at Saint Mango's currently. It's a wizarding hospital, remember?” _Hysterical and demanding that the Healers force start her labour._ “She's close to her due date so the baby should be born soon.” _She's getting her way and the child will be born within the next day. She insists Malfoy has done something to it. But the Healers can't find anything._

Bruce grinned. “That's fantastic news. Worth to be woken up for.”

Bellatrix wasn't quite so pleased and didn't hurry to agree. “I'm missing something,” she said utterly convinced about it.

“Why do you think so?”

“Because this is too simple. Too clean. Too... harmless. There's something that I'm not seeing yet, some kind of ulterior motive or plan that Lucius has and I'm not seeing and I fear I won't until it hits me like a ton of bricks like everyone else.”

Bruce rubbed her shoulders. “You're too tense.”

“You're not saying that I'm wrong, though,” she said quietly, relaxing to his touch.

“No, I'm not,” he agreed. He brushed her hair aside, massaging her shoulders and back. “You'll have to go to her.”

“I know,” Bella sighed as he kneaded a tense muscle, surrendering to his warm touch. “But not now. In a few hours.”

BBRBW

When Bellatrix arrived at Saint Mango's reception area most of those who weren't staff started pointing fingers and whispering. Apparently, they _had_ believed that she had died. There went _that_ down the drain – Bellatrix mentally affixed a point to Lucius for this before heading for the receptionist.

She was pleased to see Aurors outside her sister's room though at this point they were of small use. Bellatrix was ready to bet that whatever Lucius had had in mind – he had already done and all they were left with was to discover what that was, and Bella didn't like that in the least. She had not forgotten about Carrow and his sudden Metamorphmagus talent. She could only dread and guess which from a number of ways Malfoy had used to steal the power from Andromeda's baby.

When she entered the room with the white Healer's coat over her clothes, she found it light and spacey and Andromeda hard at labour. Ted was holding her hand. An apprentice Healer was wiping her brow and a Healer was couching her through contractions, but there was no one else here.

Knowing Andy, Bellatrix had expected that the room would be stacked with people. Friends and relatives, likewise. Even Sirius or the Potters weren't here, and she knew that her sister had grown close to them. Especially Lily since Andy’s magic was Light. She went and took her sister's other hand in her own.

Andromeda was sweating and panting from exertion. She was red in face but determined. She saw Bellatrix but didn't have the breath to greet her – she did clasp her sister's hand with an iron hold and didn't let go. Andromeda threw a short, panicked look at her elder sister before squeezing her hand tighter and screaming in pain.

Bellatrix watched her sister for a long while, murmuring sweet nothings to her along with Ted before she finally realized what it was that seemed so profoundly missing. It wasn't the lack of people or things. It was something entirely else. There was not a single trace of joy in Andy's face, only grim resolve.

It was hours later when the baby had been born when all became perfectly clear. Bellatrix had suspected, she had feared that it might turn out to be something like this, but still she didn't feel half as prepared when the final medical verdict confirmed that. She was slumped in an uncomfortable chair by Andy's bed.

Andromeda was wrecked. She didn't have it in her to cry any more, but she still shook lightly as if weeping though no tears fell. Ted looked lost, unsure how to comfort his wife, if there was anything that could comfort her.

Bellatrix reached forward, grasping her sister's hand where it lay limply by her side. “Andy,” she spoke softly.

Andromeda didn't turn her gaze from her happy, cheerful baby in the crib by her bed. She looked at the child and she felt as if she was being ripped apart. Everything was gone. All her plans. All her hopes. All her life and that of her child.

“Andromeda,” Bellatrix put some command in her tone.

Andy finally turned her head to look at her sister. “There's nothing you can say, Bella. Nothing. He said I would be punished. Me and the baby. But, Merlin, I never thought...”

“I'll get him, Andy,” Bellatrix swore. “I'll kill him.”

Andromeda's features twisted as if she wanted to cry out loud, but she couldn't. “It won't change anything, Bella. It won't. He took her birth right. And he took mine. He said we'd be a lesson, an example... Merlin... How could he have done this? How? How does such magic exist?” Her breaths became shorter and more rapid as she got more agitated. “And Narcissa?! How could she let this happen to me? How could she just stand by and watch? What did I ever do to her? What... What did I ever do to deserve this?” She crumpled forward half wheezing, half crying.

Bellatrix moved to the edge of the bed, pulling Andromeda into her arms, hushing her, calming her. She took a short look at Ted, but the man looked lost, staring blankly at his child, mulling some deep thoughts over and again. Bella would have thought that he'd have easier time accepting this considering he came from a muggle family. “It's not your fault,” she placated Andy. “It's not. It happened and you'll have to live with it. You and the baby and it is awful, but I'll take skin strip by strip off Malfoy's back before I kill him, I swear.”

Andromeda clutched at Bellatrix as is she was her lifeline. “What am I going to do? What am I going to do?”

“You're going to live,” Bellatrix replied, perhaps a bit harshly. “You're going to live, and the baby is going to live and that's the only thing that matters right now.”

“How can you say that?” Andy asked pulling back. Tears finally flowed over her cheeks. “Are we even sisters anymore?”

Bellatrix dried her sister's tears with the edge of her blanket. “Of course, we are sisters, silly. Nothing can change that. Not even Lucius Malfoy. Especially, not him.”

Andromeda nodded, tearfully, finally regaining some composure. Her hands trembled, though and as she sneaked another look at her child, she bit her lip until it bled.

Bellatrix let her sister hold on to her hand, to draw strength from her. Bella had thought she'd hated Voldemort, but what she now felt for Malfoy eclipsed that. Voldemort had taken years from her life – directing her as a puppet master behind the screen, but Malfoy had destroyed the life of her sister for forever.

After the Healer had finished with tests on the mother and the new-born when the baby had been born – Bellatrix had known which ritual Malfoy had used. He had left Andy barren – unable to bear another child ever again and empty of magic. The baby was emptied as a battery as well, and what Bella knew, but didn't have the heart to tell her sister yet was that if her child had any offspring – none of them, nor their grandchildren or _their_ grandchildren would ever be magical. Malfoy had taken their magic effectively erasing Andy's branch of the family – snubbing it in the root.

“How will I ever tell Father?” Andy whispered, her voice trembling. For the first time in years she addressed their father formally in her speech. “How will... Everyone will know. What will happen? I'm a witch, that's what I am, I've always been a witch. A Black. Who am I now? Bella...”

Bellatrix stayed at her sister's side for many hours afterwards.

BBRBW

When she Apparated she didn't think of the penthouse or the Tumbler's garage. She thought of home, she thought of Bruce. Bellatrix was exhausted and with everything else stripped away; he was the centre that remained.

She didn't do such blind Apparitions often in her adult life, but she needed him now, just his presence. If she stopped to think about it, she probably wouldn't look kindly at her own need and dependence, but that is why she didn't pause, and made the more complex Apparition to be with him rather than Apparate all around Gotham city to look for him later.

Bella liked to think that she was more – just more than a witch or simply human being. She had had to think like that to be able to stand up to Voldemort, to withstand the yearning of unclaimed birth right, but Voldemort was gone now, and she had taken the Waters. She had thought that such a feeling would never come again, but here it was. It was maddening.

The first thing in her line of sight was Bruce. A soft smile settled in her face as peaceful feeling came over her. Then she took in the rest of it. It was a small room, probably an apartment. Unfurnished and in dire need of cosmetic renovations. She counted at least five undressed, blinded, and gagged men tied to a buttress. _Interesting._

Bruce turned around, sensing that something had changed, but at first he didn't see her. Bellatrix cancelled the Chameleon spell and grinned at him. At first, he smiled back, instinctively, but then he put a finger to his lips before pointing to the other men in the room. _Silence,_ he meant. She had never gotten into the habit of rolling her eyes, but at times like these the urge was almost unquenchable.

She went to him by the window and cast a privacy charm. “We can speak now.”

He nodded absent-mindedly not doubting her word. He carefully peered in the spyglass. “How's your sister?”

“Not good,” Bella replied succinctly. “But she's alive and healthy, I'll tell you the rest later... What are you doing?”

No sooner had she asked the question when a timer - that on closer reflection would have been a close lookalike of a timer from a microwave – pinged, the curtain rose and shots rang out. There was no time to think at all.

She lunged forward to cover Bruce while casting a shield charm, she knew it wouldn’t hold for long if at all. Magical shields by nature were more designed to withstand electromagnetic (photonic) energy of spells and curses depending on the strength of the caster rather than the kinetic energy of Muggle weapons. To be fair, in no way her intention was to sacrifice herself, it would be utterly useless and idiotic for such an occasion as this, but she did intend to pull Bruce out of harm’s way.

There must have been more than one sniper lying in wait with excellent firing view of this window. Her shield withstood several bullets, as she pulled Bruce to the ground with her. The fifth pierced through her shield and then her flesh. They fell to the ground and the last traces of the shield shimmered away along with the privacy charm she had cast before.

At first, she didn't feel pain. She was dazed. Then it started to burn. For some reason she recalled the night when she had sat in the Tumbler watching Batman battle the mobsters – the fire fight then. She had been sensibly afraid. _Terrified._ She grasped at her shoulder, almost choking as she laughed, because breath kept catching in her throat. _If you're afraid of something, chances are there's a damn good reason._ It was a thought she had had before. She was sure of it.

_Merlin_ , it hurt enough to stop breath in her lungs. She had been hit with curses that had stunned her less. Her eyes rolled as if she could escape the pain by looking at something, anything else.

“Honey, baby,” Bruce repeated one endearment after another as he tried to get her to focus her attention on him. “Darling,” he tapped her cheek lightly, his voice soft and harried. He was half-covering her body with his own, but no one was firing any more. Likely because lying on the floor they were outside the line of sight of snipers. “Sweetie, you're going to be okay, you hear me?”

She tried to nod but ended up grimacing. However, her attention finally zoned in on Bruce.

Strong and nimble he pried her hand away from her shoulder to take a short look at the wound. “The bullet went through, that's good, that's okay,” he murmured more to himself. “Come here, darling,” he pulled her close, dragging them a few steps for the cover of the blinded windows. “No, don't talk, you're going to be okay, love,” he shushed her when he saw that she was about to say something.

She didn't want to cry, but her eyes were wet. Her whole arm burned, and the pain spread to her side as well. She'd been hit with Crucio before, this pain should be nothing, but the shock of seeing her own blood pour forth and smear them both panicked her. She had never been afraid of blood. She had never seen this much. She almost didn't notice the whole litany of pet names Bruce had suddenly acquired for her.

He gathered her in his arms and rose to his feet smoothly. He knew there were ambulances downstairs, all he had to do was get mixed in the crowd, get to one and claim she was hurt during the shooting which wouldn't be that big a stretch of the truth. He heard her whimper softly as she was joggled in his arms. He didn't let the sound get to him. He couldn't. He had to get her to an ambulance first.

The injury wasn't life threatening; it was all he could think to calm himself. It wasn't. It wasn't. It wasn't. The thought barely helped at all.

BBRBW

“What is that?” Bruce asked suspiciously as the paramedic in the ambulance pressed a queer looking bottle to Bella's lips, making her drink, without even taking a proper look at her shoulder. “What the hell?” he rose as a tidal wave, grabbing the medic by his collar and pressing him into the cabinets.

Bella felt her mind clearing like sky after a storm – quickly and suddenly. Fire of a different kind spread through her veins and pain vanished as her flesh knit itself together. She winced and almost gagged. “That was the most foul-tasting potion I have had … Ever.”

“Bellatrix...,” his grip on the medic didn't slack as he looked at Bella wonderingly. He'd seen healing magic before, but he sure as hell hadn't expected to see it here and now. He didn't release the wizard, because he didn't trust him in the least.

“Mister Wayne, if you would please … release me? My only intention was to help,” the man dressed as a paramedic said.

“Who are you?” Bruce demanded though he didn't try to choke the other man quite so much anymore. If there was one thing, he had learned about magical people from Bellatrix it was that they were just like ordinary men which meant that this one most certainly wasn't just a random good Samaritan.

“A Healer,” the man replied at the same time Bellatrix said, “Wizard.”

“It's both, most likely,” Bellatrix supplied a moment later. “He didn't harm me. He really did heal me,” she said poking at the hole in her blouse. Her clothes and skin were still stained with blood, but she was whole again underneath it all.

Bruce released the wizard, but still watched him for any wrong movement. “I wasn't aware of any wizards in Gotham.”

“You wouldn't be,” the man replied pleasantly even though Bruce had just almost smeared him against the cabinets.

“Neither was I,” Bellatrix interjected.

“Yes, well... You weren't looking, were you?” the man asked straightening his clothes. “And to tell the truth there aren't very many of us.”

Bella's gaze narrowed. “I'd say thank you, but you wouldn't be here at this time if you didn't want something.”

“Astute,” the wizard grinned widely showing crooked front teeth. “There is one small thing I'd like to discuss with you.”

Bruce sat down, still watching the wizard warily. Blindly his hand found Bella's and squeezed lightly. She was okay. He held a sigh. She was okay. He clenched his other hand into a fist to stop his fingers from trembling.

“I have a job offer for you,” the wizard finally said, drawing his hand through his light hair, almost unnerved, when nobody spoke for nearly a minute.

“Not interested,” Bellatrix replied immediately, absent-mindedly stroking Bruce's fingers with her thumb where their hands were clasped.

The wizard had expected such an answer. “We know who you are.”

If the other man's words were a threat, they were a very poor one. “Fascinating. I know who I am as well.”

“You didn't even ask me what kind of job it is,” the wizard countered.

“Because I'm not interested,” Bellatrix faked a smile. “Didn't I already tell you that?”

“But you are, Lady Black. You most certainly are because you can't live without the Wizarding world. It's your world and you can't let it go. Otherwise would you Apparate back to Britain every other day?”

They may monitor how often she crossed the barrier, but that meant nothing. “Lucius Malfoy is a pesky, recurring problem.”

“Malfoy is just a name. After him there will be others. Other problems and always a reason to return. Magic is in your blood,” the wizard said passionately.

“I'm not contesting that,” she addressed the last bit of his speech. “But you're forgetting that I'm the Lady of my House. My family is in Great Britain, what exactly is so surprising in the fact that I travel there?”

“The fact that you always return here,” and the wizard looked at Bruce when he said that.

“Your meaning?” her tone was sharp and threatening, intent on drawing attention back to herself.

“We've been watching you,” the man said softly looking back at her. “It looks as if you're here to stay.”

“If I am, what's to say that I want anything to do with wizards here? Maybe I want to live peacefully like a muggle.”

“We've been watching you.”

“And?” Bellatrix didn't bother to hide the note of exasperation in her voice. Though at the back of her mind she wondered whether this was exactly what she had feared when she had escaped Joker’s clutches.

The wizard sighed sensing that he was getting nowhere. He hadn't expected much more out of this first meeting, but it still rankled. “Very well. We will talk again.”

“I doubt that.”

“We will,” the wizard assured her. “But for now, as a Healer I would suggest you rest for the rest of the day. It's been quite trying, hasn't it?”

Bellatrix felt almost uneasy. She wasn't sure whether the man implied more than he said. Had there been magic caught on camera? Did he know about the dragon-hide? Or worse… Was it possible that he knew about Andromeda already? Perhaps he was just fishing… Was he working for the government or was he from some independent group of random fanatics?

“Till we meet again. And by the way – my name is Daryn Hughes, Milady,” the man bowed lightly before he disappeared into the crowd.

“What was that?” Bruce asked her - referring to the whole conversation.

Bellatrix stared at the spot she'd last seen the wizard. “I'm not sure,” she answered cautiously. _But the way things are going – it’s unlikely to be anything good._


	7. Metamorphing Magic

Rachel had said to Harvey that the safest place in Gotham City was Bruce's penthouse. When she had said that, she had failed to consider Bellatrix. As the elevator doors opened, she remembered that Bruce's penthouse was now _haunted_ by that woman. Rachel wouldn't call Bella's company safe by any stretch of the imagination and she didn't trust the impossible woman as far as she could throw her, but at the same time Rachel was pretty sure that Bellatrix wasn't Joker's agent.

She had no proof of that, of course, it was just a feeling, but to think differently would make even less sense. It was the same as - it was a feeling that Bellatrix wasn't good, not in any way that people are normally good unless they're bad, and the feeling that Bellatrix was wrong for Bruce. All Rachel now really hoped for, as she exited the elevator, was that Bruce was home. As lack of luck would have it - the first person she met was Bellatrix.

Bellatrix was lounging on a couch, a glass of white wine in her hand and Gotham at her feet or near enough. She was staring at the neon lit, pulsing heart of the city spread out before her.

Rachel hesitated for a moment, stopping by the corner. Unsure whether she had been noticed, unsure how to start a conversation. "Where's Bruce?" she finally asked, walking in confidently a moment later.

Bellatrix closed her eyes letting the annoyance she felt be reflected on her face for a second as she took a sip of her wine that had turned strangely tasteless before replying. "Out."

"He'll be back soon?" it wasn't much of a question, styled to get only one type of answer - agreement.

Rachel surveyed the open area thinking where best to sit down. She didn't want to sit too close to Bellatrix, but she also wanted to appear unconcerned and confident as if this was _her_ home and Bellatrix was the intruder. Rachel unconsciously bit her bottom lip. Unbidden passed a thought that this would be much easier if Alfred was here. Alfred had always liked her.

"Maybe."

"With Gordon's death it's not safe at the precinct. It's not safe anywhere. Bruce said I'm welcome to stay," she explained moving further into the room and finally selecting an armchair.

Rachel sat down and composed herself. She wasn't scared of Bellatrix, not any more than any sensible person would be, but she was safe here. She was safe, because Bruce said so, because she could take care of herself, and because she was the youngest female DA assistant in Gotham City, period. She was not a small girl that could be easily intimidated. Not anymore.

Truth is that Bellatrix wasn't trying to intimidate Rachel. As long as Rachel didn't choose to become a problem, Bella had many other thoughts on her mind, many other problems. "I know, Bruce warned me."

"Warned you not to hurt me?" Rachel couldn't resist a jape.

"Warned that you would be coming to stay tonight," she finally spared a glance for Rachel. "You're welcome to the wine," she generally gestured towards the opened bottle on the coffee table. There were two other glasses as well, originally meant for Bruce and Alfred. “I find I have no taste for it tonight.”

"Chardonnay?" Rachel asked reaching for the bottle. She couldn't read the label from afar, but the queen of wines felt like the right guess.

"Sauvignon Blanc," Bellatrix replied off-handedly.

"Californian?" she asked as she poured trying to at least appear civil.

"No."

"French?" Rachel finally took a look at the label. "New Zealand?"

"I recently bought a vineyard there," Bellatrix remarked, "in the Marlborough region." It did have the distant ring of a petty jab, but Bellatrix honestly didn't intend to brag. In a lukewarm attempt at a conversation she elaborated on the topic. She certainly didn't feel guilty for the fact that Rachel wouldn't even dream of owning a vineyard much less discuss a casual purchase of one.

"You would," Rachel muttered in her glass, sitting back, sliding deeper in her armchair.

Bellatrix ceased to pay any attention to her. It was a while before Rachel spoke again. "Is Alfred here?"

"Yes."

"Oh, good. Where?" she sat up straighter. Rachel hated how she felt so awkward and out of her element here. Every moment seemed to drag on for eternity. This was Bruce's home. She had had no problems feeling at home in his place before - that didn't feel entirely true, but Rachel didn't pursue that strand of thought.

"Somewhere, I haven't tagged him with GPS."

Anger sparked and Rachel gladly embraced the emotion that felt more comfortable and familiar than awkwardness. Every question she asked was met with some sort of non-answer. Talking to glacier would be more productive than conversing with Bellatrix. Cornering a lying witness into incriminating themselves at the stand was easier. "Your skills as a host are exemplary," she noted coldly.

"You're not my guest," Bellatrix replied easily.

"I'm Bruce's guest. To put it in your words - _by association_ \- you should care about that," Rachel responded raising her chin a bit higher.

" _In my words_ \- I would more categorize you as someone else's pet that's been dropped at my doorstep for babysitting."

"Well, I would categorize _you_..."

Bellatrix rose smoothly. "I don't care," her lips even were stretched into a smile. "You're welcome to any of the guest bedrooms. Take your pick. There's food in the fridge or you can phone the reception, or you can order a takeout. If there's anything you need," Bellatrix smiled wider, straining her lips, "Call the reception."

Then she left and the smile dropped.

BBRBW

Bellatrix was fascinated by Gotham at night. She _liked_ the city at night. Truth be told she liked many cities at night. The rough edges faded away, most of the aspects became unseen and only the lights shined, blazing outwards against the darkness, illuminating only what was worth being seen. At night-time Gotham seemed to be pulsing with life even more so than during the day. It was calming like the beating of Bruce's heart.

"Rachel is …" he wasn't really sure how he was going to continue, but something along the lines of - _she's just worried_ ; or _she just got carried away_ ; or even _she doesn't mean as much to me as you_ \- had to be said. He couldn't contain himself though, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, betraying his amusement.

"I honestly don't care," Bella replied staring out of the floor-to-ceiling window in their bedroom. Her arms were crossed under her breasts and she was quietly seething. It wasn't just the fact that Rachel was snoring and defiling one of the guest bedrooms tonight, it was the conversation Bellatrix had walked in on mere moments ago.

"I told her I'd go to the press conference tomorrow. That I'll admit to being Batman. That I'll give myself up," tentatively and softly he laid his hands on her shoulders, caressed her arms down to elbows before hugging her to his chest, trapping her in his embrace.

Bellatrix had heard that part rather plainly. "Did you lie?" she leaned back against him, letting him draw comfort from her. What made her mad was how Rachel had reacted to that piece of news. She knew logically that she couldn't control other people unless she _Imperio_ 'ed them, but still sometimes she just wanted to … She bit back a frustrated sigh.

"No," Bruce admitted quietly.

Bellatrix pursed her lips but didn't say anything. What could she say? She didn't like it. Not one bit. She wasn't going to hold him back though, because he didn't hold her back when she needed to go. Nonetheless she was worried, worried about him.

"Bellatrix - say something," he didn't say it aloud - _please_ -, but his tone was pleading.

She closed her eyes for a moment. She wanted to tell him all she thought - about how this seemed a monumentally stupid move, because he would endanger himself, but the way he asked, as if he was afraid that she would turn him down and send him away to deal with this on his own... Like Rachel had. She couldn't do it. She had left him on his own once and when she came back, she swore to herself that never again, not like that.

"You know what I think?" she asked trying to keep the tone light, swallowing everything else.

"I'm an idiot?" he asked laughing, quietly.

"Reckless," she replied far more seriously than she had intended.

"Reckless idiot?" he smiled, nuzzling against her ear.

"I don't see how giving yourself up to satisfy the bloodlust of those peasants is going to solve anything," she wasn't in the mood to be playful. This was serious, she knew he knew that. He wasn't a reckless moron like Dumbledore's enthusiasts, that's why it grated all the more - he saw all the aspects of the situation and he still chose to go down this road.

She turned in his arms a little to look him in the eyes. "And you must know that when you do give yourself up - the Joker will come for you. Is that what you want?"

"I want him to stop targeting innocent people," he replied just as sincerely.

"And you believe this is how you'll stop him? When you're alone and defenceless in police custody?" she poked holes in his strategy, but she wasn't aggressive, she was mainly just concerned. He had to know that somehow somewhere along the way they had thrown their lots together and Bellatrix, for one, was in this for the long run.

"I was hoping I wouldn't be all alone," he had the nerve to wink and grin.

"You want me to take him out?" she asked, frowning. She could burn this city to the ground and sleep soundly for the rest of her long life if it kept him safe but somehow, she doubted that that was what he meant.

"I was thinking more along the lines - bail me out, and I'll take care of Joker, but your version is also a workable scenario," he replied, his voice quiet and a bit rough, his attention only partly on the subject topic and mainly on her lips. He leaned closer brushing his nose against hers, leaning in for a short kiss.

"Bring you your Batsuit baked in a cake and all..." she elaborated a moment later, her gaze slightly glazed. The closer he leaned the harder it was to concentrate.

"Yes...," he managed to drawl between raining short, heavy kisses on her lips. He needed her like fields need rainwater. He had lost and regained her so many times that a moment like this had always seemed nigh impossible. And yet here she was, and he had no words for the surety and confidence it gave him when she accepted the darker parts of him. The dangerous parts.

They were so alike. Both half belonging to world that others weren’t privy to.

She turned in his embrace to fully press against him. He was full of initiative tonight and she gladly let him take the lead. Gather her close. She laughed when he picked her up in his arms. "I can do that," she continued the nearly forgotten thread of conversation.

"Good," he grinned and playfully spun on the spot to draw another laugh from her before heading towards the bed.

Her hands around his neck, she played with the short strands of his hair, and tried not to think about all the repercussions to his plan. Not tonight. This was not the night for that.

BBRBW

Next morning when Bellatrix woke Bruce was already gone. She half remembered him kissing her forehead and saying goodbye as he left. Anyway, his side of bed was long cold. She stretched and yawned as she woke slowly. This was an important day, but there was no reason to rush it. She felt heavy with sleep. It was another hour before she got up.

Press conference had already started by the time she sat down in front of TV. Bellatrix was nursing a glass of orange juice, she didn't feel brilliant this morning - her head felt stuffy as if she had overslept, but at the same time she wanted to sleep some more. The fact that Rachel was already there didn't improve Bella's tired mood one bit. _Couldn't she have watched this in her room?_

"Good morning," Rachel greeted her coldly. Bellatrix managed a small, polite smile in response, but no comment.

And then Harvey Dent took the stand and both women turned their full attention to the screen. Bellatrix was pleasantly surprised when the District Attorney claimed that he was Batman drawing the ire and the attention to himself. Rachel gasped audibly. Bellatrix enjoyed the moment, even the juice tasted sweeter when the moment lasted, and nobody challenged Dent on his confession.

It was once again the situation where an individual takes the fall for the greater good, but Bellatrix was glad that in this case it wasn't Bruce. She didn't generally approve of such heroics and self-made sacrifices, but this time she found herself feeling a sense of grudging respect for what Dent did. It still was hilariously stupid as his whole improvised plan hinged on what would Batman do now, but Bellatrix already knew that Dent had won this bet. There was no way Bruce was going to leave that man for slaughter. Dent’s confession pleased her; because this way it felt like Bruce wasn't doing all that he was doing for nothing.

"How could he?" Rachel gasped at the screen as Harvey was cuffed and taken into custody.

Bellatrix looked at the other woman. "I believe it was a matter of opening his mouth and letting the sounds come out."

"You think this is funny?" Rachel turned to Bellatrix, enraged.

"Hilarious," Bella replied in good humour, eyes sparkling. Her mood had improved drastically.

"Did you tell him something? Something that changed his mind?" Rachel demanded.

"I can honestly say I've hardly spoken to Harvey Dent at all," she met him at the fundraiser, but he'd been pre-occupied, and she'd drifted off to other guests.

"I meant Bruce," Rachel spat, in her anger her vowels became more pronounced and throatier giving the impression of growling.

Bellatrix thought for a moment. She could lie or she could tell the truth. Since it didn't really matter, "Yes," she replied. "I told him that the universe will implode if there is one more stupidity committed within the next twenty-four-hour period."

"Be serious. This is Harvey's life, it's ruined now!" she could hardly believe her ears, but of course - the life of other people was inconsequential to Bellatrix Rosier.

"You mean - your life with him, right? Because it all comes back to you, doesn't it?" and now Bellatrix felt angry too. She remembered all too well that conversation yesterday when Bruce had told Rachel that he's going to unmask himself and all the silly girl had talked about was how it was going to impact her and therefore their friendship would become impossible.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," Bellatrix stared pointedly at her.

"I have _honestly_ no idea," the tone was mocking as Rachel abruptly rose and left.

Bellatrix perched on the armrest and took another sip of her juice. "Well, she knows how to ruin a perfectly good moment," she muttered to herself.

When she was sure that Rachel was out of earshot, she leisurely pulled out her cell phone and called Bruce.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

"Surprised," he admitted, but to her he sounded a little relieved.

"Are you coming home now?"

"No, not yet, I have to find out what's going to happen now and prepare. I don't think the Joker will attack Dent while he's in a holding cell, but if they're moving him, and they probably are... I have to know. I have to be there, after what he did - it's what I have to do. It's the least I can do," Bruce explained. He had to be there to prove that Dent wasn't Batman now that Harvey had sacrificed himself to protect Batman's identity. And he had to be there to protect Dent because the attorney _wasn't_ Batman.

"Alright, dear," she agreed in the same soft tones. She had already expected that he'd act like this - it was just who Bruce was. "Call me if you need my help. I'll be home."

"Thank you," and he meant - for everything, for understanding, for supporting and for all the things she didn't do - scolding, interrupting, condemning or even leaving.

She ended the call and moments later Rachel marched across the room towards the kitchen. That wasn’t anything particularly curious, but the envelope in her hand... Bellatrix had a bad feeling about that. She rose and Apparated. She appeared a step from Rachel with the sound of a crack of a whip. Rachel almost jumped out of her skin in surprise.

"That better not be what I think it is," Bellatrix said pleasantly pointing at the envelope. A glass of juice was still in her hand.

"Astute," Rachel quipped, regaining her composure fast. "It's a letter. The deadliest form of attack completely on par with wiping people's memories and as dangerous as appearing out of thin air."

Bellatrix ignored the smart-ass comments. "Deadly, perhaps," she agreed, "depends on the written word."

"Well, it's not for you, so you can rest in peace," Rachel didn't particularly like the person she became when she was with Bellatrix, but she couldn't help the snide comment. After all, when with a pack of wolves - act like a wolf.

"It's for Bruce," Bellatrix observed before taking a sip of juice, her posture was completely relaxed, but she still stood in the way and wasn't going to budge.

Rachel didn't deign to answer that. What was obvious was obvious. She stared at Bellatrix wanting her to move aside.

"You're not leaving him a letter," Bella explained.

"Did he hire you to screen his mail?" Rachel asked indignantly. This just crossed every boundary! What the hell did the woman think she was? She had no right.

"That letter will never reach him," Bellatrix paraphrased calmly.

"How exactly are you planning on stopping me?" daring, a bit incredulous, Rachel didn't believe that a lightning will strike her where she stood if she annoyed Bellatrix enough no matter how mysterious or powerful the other woman was. She wasn't scared, not in that moment.

"Don't play dumb, you should know by now that I could kill you without breaking a sweat or dropping this glass, so I'll say it again - you're not leaving him that letter," Bellatrix didn't have much patience today, not for Rachel.

"All you do is threaten. Is that what you do to him too?" it was hard to believe that Bruce could be intimidated, but Rachel allowed for the possibility, after all, Bellatrix could erase memories; perhaps she had messed with Bruce's mind too. _It would certainly explain a lot._

"Only when he asks nicely," Bella grinned salaciously.

Rachel was disgusted. "You won't kill me, or you would have already. I on the other hand can tell…"

"If I thought for a moment that you're a security breach, you'd already be dead," Bellatrix had never thought that Rachel would tell anyone what she knew, because nobody would believe her. It would be all too easy to refute her and all of Rachel's career would be in smithereens and the woman herself in a white, padded room. That's, of course, if Rachel even got to making her revelations public and Bellatrix had many more ways of stopping her before that happened.

"Yes, well I'm not," Rachel moved forward, but Bellatrix sidestepped her.

"I told you - it's not going to happen."

"You can't do this!" Rachel was starting to get red in the face.

"I'm already doing this."

"Why?"

"Because I won't let you break his heart again so you can vent your frustrations in a shabby little note. I don't give damn that your life is not working out as you would like and even less, I care that you can't get everything you want, because I'm in the way. And, yes, I know I'm in your way, I have been for far longer than you suspect, and you know what? That's exactly where I'm going to stay. I'm not going to let you tear him apart, because you're petty and vicious," Bellatrix had to restrain the urge to accentuate every point by poking at Rachel.

"I'm vicious?" Rachel spluttered; she just couldn't believe the utter crap that the other woman was sprouting. "You're so completely blind when it comes to yourself! You are controlling, manipulative, scheming, _evil_ woman and you're selfish, because I've been his friend for a very long time and you're driving us apart!"

"You drove you apart. You never listened, you never supported him, _ever_ , all you ever did was try to impose your own truth and values and you refused to accept anything else, and in the height of arrogance you believed that to be an act of a friend. Well, let me enlighten you - that's not what friends do."

"How would you know what friends do?"

_I stood by his side when he needed me. I let him go so that he would be safe even though he was the only thing that anchored me. I went to war and won it so that I could come back to him._ "You're still alive, aren't you?" Bellatrix quickly pulled the letter from Rachel's hand. "I'll take that."

"I'll write another," Rachel threatened. She was going to mail it through actual mail, if that's what it took, she wasn't going to be deterred or intimidated.

Bellatrix looked hard at her and drew her wand. "No, you won't." _Imperio._

BBRBW

Bellatrix and Bruce were enjoying the moment, and Rachel wasn't in the penthouse. They were sitting comfortably on the couch, Bellatrix had stretched her legs over Bruce's lap and for the moment there was nothing important to talk about - not Joker or Gotham, nor Malfoy and London. For the moment, every problem in the world did not exist for them.

She twisted a lock of his hair between her fingers. "It's getting a bit long, isn't it?"

He grinned and patted her knee, his palm covered her knee fully, and his fingers caressed her thigh as he moved his hand. "You don't like it?"

"Well, they might start calling you the hairy crusader instead of the caped one," she replied, smiling, leaning back against the couch.

"I'll get it cut soon," he meant - after he'd dealt with Joker.

"I could do it," she said, still playing with his hair, pondering.

"You?!" of all the people he would not have expected her to even think of offering.

"It's a matter of few swishes and flicks," she grinned and then pushed her hand completely through his carefully coiffed hair hopelessly ruffling it.

"Do _you_ cut your own hair?" he asked, leaning sideways before teasingly pulling out a hairpin from her hairdo, letting it all cascade in loose curls around her shoulders.

"Mhm," she murmured in agreement absent-mindedly, still playing with his hair. "It feels strangely intimate when somebody's running their hands all over your head. There aren't really any hairdressers in Wizarding world. There are specialists that offer the whole package of getting someone ready for an event, but there's nobody that does just the hair. I did try hairdressing the Muggle style, but I did not warm up to the experience, so unless it's a wedding I just usually..." she drew her wand and a wave and a flick later her hair was perfectly done again.

"Do you often go to weddings?" he teased softly before leaning into her for a kiss when Alfred walked in on them.

"I'm sorry, but there's a phone call for Miss Rosier. From London," he handed her the home phone on a silver platter. Nobody had called Bellatrix here before so as much as Alfred would have liked to smile at the scene he had walked in on, he was apprehensive.

Bellatrix frowned. She took the phone, glancing questioningly at Alfred. "Yes?" she asked blandly, speaking into the receiver.

"Would you care to explain why I'm being pestered by the Minister for Magic?"

"Adrian," Bellatrix breathed somehow relieved. It was a bit of a leap for her godfather to make, but she could see how he'd thought that by calling here he might reach her. And then she realized what he'd just said. "Sirius called you?"

"He visited me," Adrian corrected.

Bellatrix did not like that at all. She knew better than to think that Sirius would threaten her godfather, but she also wasn't happy that her cousin was digging into things - into her life. He already knew far too much. "What did he want?"

"You. Malfoy's head on a silver platter. World peace and a poodle," Adrian replied smartly.

Nearly thirty years ago Adrian Burke - a squib from an old wizarding family - had accepted an unlikely job offer from a wizard and that day he had chosen for his whole life. He had not only gotten work that settled him for the rest of his life, but he had had the chance to help raise one little girl that years later changed the world. Wizarding world still didn't love Squibs, but now it was forbidden for a wizard to hurt or kill them at leisure like any other sentient, living being. He had never been as proud of his goddaughter as he was the day she announced that as a Minister she was renouncing the whole _Squib Rights_ act as they had _every_ right as members of the Wizarding world and citizens of Great Britain, and set a committee of political activists and professionals to rework all the _Limitations of the non-Wizarding creatures_ Law.

"A poodle?" she asked blankly.

"It's an educated guess," Adrian replied grinning.

"A poodle?" Bruce mouthed at her. Bellatrix shook her head. She would _not_ ask for details on that.

"Anything else?"

"I got the feeling he didn't really want to elaborate and let me in on state secrets, but there's trouble brewing. In the last twenty-four hours Alastor Moody, Minerva McGonagall and Hagrid have been found dead. Greengrasses, Notts and Parkinsons were attacked. And it's all over the news," Adrian explained.

"Moody, McGonagall and the Gameskeeper are Dumbledore's people. From his Order of Glorified Mail Birds," she reasoned thinking that therefore they were not her problem, but Adrian was right - it _was_ troubling, all of those people had been high-profile and hard-to-get targets when Voldemort had been at large.

"Yes, and Greengrasses, Notts and Parkinsons sided firmly with you when you became Minister. Not with Dumbledore, not with Voldemort, and they most certainly didn't lay low."

Bellatrix tried to keep her expression impassive. Adrian tried to imply that those people were her allies and friends, and therefore she should care, but she only had one friend, she was in his lap and he was safe and sound. All the others had followed her, because it had been the smart choice, she wasn't going to applaud them for having common sense.

"Any survivors?"

"Daphne and Aurora Greengrass, one is too traumatized to speak, the other too young to know how. The Parkinson manor was destroyed. General opinion is that no one survived, but Sirius just said that they have found no bodies, period. The elder Nott is in critical condition in St. Mango's," he paused... "And I got most of that from Daily Prophet."

"What?" Bellatrix hissed. "When Sirius turned up to pester you - did he happen to mention why such sensitive information has been leaked to the press? Since he obviously isn't in the habit of keeping his mouth shut."

"I think that's one of the problems he wanted to speak to you about."

"That's what he gets. Working with do-gooders that don't know when to shut their traps," Bellatrix would have _glued_ the lips of any person she suspected might talk too much. She could just feel her blood-pressure spiking in anger.

Bruce drew her attention and ire starting to slide his hand up and down her leg. She glared at him, but he grinned at her continuing his ministrations. She drew a deep breath, calming down. "All you mean to tell me with this is that it's the beginning of something, am I correct?"

"Yes," Adrian replied. "Your sister... He did that because he could. He has more plans than just revenge," there was no mistaking about whom Adrian was talking about.

"Malfoy always has had delusions of grandeur," she dismissed his concern easily.

"Don't underestimate him, Bellatrix. Malfoy is not Voldemort."

"I defeated Voldemort," she had to repeat that far too often lately. First her father, now Adrian and she wasn't even going to mention Bruce who didn't think that Voldemort counted for anything.

"It took twenty-eight years to orchestrate _his_ demise. Right now, you're blinded by your own arrogance," he saw now what Cygnus was so concerned about. Bellatrix had been the figurehead, she had been all alone, on the top fighting the Dark Lord, but she had not been the only one fighting him, countless other people, including Adrian himself, had contributed to get her where she was, to give her the chance to end Voldemort. Right now, Bellatrix was acting all alone, blinded by her own success, she didn't think she needed anyone. Adrian was worried. They were losing, after all.

"Adrian..."

"When I took the job as your godfather one of the perks of the position is that I get to tell you when you're acting like a spoiled child. Be careful, Bellatrix," he warned again, though he didn't think he was getting through to her.

Why did everyone think that she was _not_ careful? "If Sirius comes calling again - tell him I'll visit soon." Malfoy was tearing through hers and Dumbledore's supporters, destroying their power bases, he certainly wasn't wasting time. _Divided we fall._ Well, she will at least have to talk to Sirius.

"By the way, I'm just curious. Any idea how he thought to come looking for you through me? Nobody knows you're my goddaughter, but your Father, and we both swore secrecy on this matter," if Sirius found him, could Malfoy too? The last thing Adrian wanted to be is a hostage for his goddaughter.

Now that wasn't a very hard question. "He knows I spent years in the Muggle world. Lily probably steered him in the right direction. Rosier Limited is not exactly inconspicuous - the rest was just easy guesswork and Lily knows her way around." Bellatrix knew what Adrian meant by his question, but Voldemort had never thought to look for her in Muggle London instead tearing through all the continental wizarding communities and if _he_ hadn't found her in ten years, she doubted that Malfoy would in ten months.

"Lily Potter?"

"Yes," she answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Never mind," he brushed it off. "Come home as soon as you can, alright?"

"Alright," her tone was noncommittal as far as she was concerned - she was home. She ended the call and managed a tight smile for Alfred as she gave him back the phone.

"Problems?" Bruce asked concerned.

"Always," she replied before pulling her lips into a wider smile. She wanted the earlier moment, before the call, to continue a while longer.

"Do you have to go now?" he didn't want her to go, but lately it seemed to matter very little what they wanted and what not.

"I'll go in the morning," she replied snuggling closer to him.

"It'll be night there then," he objected.

"Well, I want to spend _this_ night here with you."

BBRBW

Bruce did not have the entire night for her. In late evening, when the traffic could be accommodated, it was arranged to transfer Harvey Dent from precinct to city prison. Batman had to be there for that ride.

Rachel had left the penthouse early to say her goodbyes to Harvey, to beg him one last time not to do this. Bellatrix said her see-you-later's to Bruce at the Tumbler's garage where she teasingly run her hands over the ripped armour on his chest promising all kinds of things if he returned before the night was over. Afterwards she headed home with Alfred, careful to avoid all the roadblocks in the city.

She expected that if everything went more or less smoothly then there would be a few more salvageable hours of this night, so she relaxed on the couch with a glass of sparkling water and shut out all the thoughts about what trap was Malfoy laying and to what end, as well as some reasonable fear that maybe, _maybe_ Joker was somehow better than Batman. Her peace of mind had a name - dragonhide.

She didn't notice when she fell asleep, but she woke with a start as if from a bad dream when she sensed she wasn't alone. Bruce laughed quietly and took her face in his hands, hushing her. "It's all right, I'm back."

Bellatrix blinked sleep away from her eyes, she hadn't intended to fall asleep, and it was almost embarrassing. She glanced at her hand, she was sure she had fallen asleep with the glass in her hand, but a short look around the room assured her that the glass was safely on the table. "Are you okay?" she patted down his chest checking for injuries.

Bruce hissed when she touched a sore spot. "I may have bruised a rib or two, but I'm fine."

She winced. "I know only a spell for broken bones, and that one isn't very pretty," she apologized with her tone of voice. "I'll bring you something from London," she said pulling up, pushing her face against his, and enjoying the closeness.

"It's all right, I've been much worse."

"Doesn't mean you have to be in pain," she argued quietly. "Come to think, it's ridiculous how little I know of medicine. If you insist on being hurt, I suppose I should learn," before she'd been far more concerned with learning how to hurt people rather than how to put them back together. As necessary as the Healers were, she had always thought Healing to be a soft art and she had never thought of herself as soft.

"Just stay with me here for a moment," he asked pulling her close.

She put her arms around him, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. She cradled the back of his head and drew patterns on his back with the other hand. A rune for protection. He was wearing a soft sweater, his hair was slightly damp from shower, because she could smell the shampoo, he'd been home for a while and he'd let her sleep. "What happened?"

"We got him," he replied.

"You got him," she whispered back.

"Gordon saved me," he recounted how he couldn't just drive Joker down, how he'd chosen to go down instead and how the detective had saved him when he'd lain there - dazed on the asphalt. "He's alive."

Her hand trembled as she tried to refrain from fisting the material on his back. He was all right. He was here. There was nothing a little potion wouldn't cure. "That's good."

Bruce exhaled shakily. "It's over. Joker is in police custody and Gordon's alive. He's alive," he repeated against her skin.

"It's okay," for a change it really was, otherwise she wouldn't have said it. "It's okay," still half asleep she clung to him and let him cling to her. "You're home," she breathed in deep, resting against him as he was resting against her.

And then a phone rang.

BBRBW

When he left again, she couldn't fall back asleep. She didn't even move from the couch, curling on her side as she stared at the phone on the table. Alfred had brought her a hot mug of tea, but she didn't think she could swallow anything down. Joker had asked for Batman. _Of course, he had._ Harvey Dent was missing. _What kind of morons this city employs?_ Joker had been imprisoned. Everything had been solved; everyone was free to go home, but no... Something went wrong just like that.

She was more apprehensive than worried, but still she felt bad, though it was mostly a physical sensation. Bellatrix wasn't sure to whose credit she felt so under the weather. It was just damn annoying that there was no bloody end in sight no matter what was being done. _Maybe I'm coming down with the flu._ She wasn't sick often, but it did happen - as soon as she could get a Pepper Up potion that problem would be fixed.

And then her mobile rang. She reached for it quickly as a striking snake. "Bruce?"

"I can't get to them both, I can't make it," he said quickly, his voice rough, moderated - he was wearing his mask. "And the police won't make it either. I need your help."

"Tell me," she demanded sitting up. _Them?_ And only now Bellatrix realized that Rachel went away hours ago and hadn't yet returned.

"He's got Harvey and Rachel," Bruce confirmed her suspicions, the engine of his bike hummed softly in the background. "Rachel's closer, I can get to her. Can you take Harvey?"

As if she would refuse him. "Where is he?"

"250 52nd street," he replied. "I'm not sure what's there or how it looks... Maybe take the Lamborghini and...," he pressed harder down on gas making the engine purr louder speeding past late cars on the street. "Be careful."

"I'll figure it out," she replied promptly, "Trust me." She dropped the call and opened Gotham City map application in her phone typing in the address. The street level photo was grainy and shady, but this was hardly going to be a difficult Apparition. And then she paused.

Bellatrix wasn't into saving-people business. That was something the Potters, Sirius, Dumbledore and _their_ kind did. That was something Bruce did. She tsk-ed as she rose, slipping her feet back into her high-heeled shoes. But Harvey Dent was important - for Bruce's peace of mind at least. She grabbed her coat from the wall closet in the hall and Apparated once the last button was buttoned.

BBRBW

There is no imagining Bellatrix's surprise when instead of Harvey Dent she saw Rachel Dawes. The surprise most definitely left a bitter taste in her mouth. The click-clacks of her heels stopped as she leaned against the doorway, shrouded in shadows and watched as Rachel began shouting, calling for someone, anyone.

Bellatrix was silent. And then Dent's voice trickled through the speakers on the phone. Bellatrix listened to their tearful conversation where Rachel sobbed and Dent tried to stay brave, and she wasn't moved at all. Maybe it was because of the people involved. Maybe because she knew that both of them would live. Maybe because she was just in a bad mood.

She didn't rush forward to save Rachel. After all Rachel was certain that she was the one who was going to be saved anyway - she rather let Rachel make promises that Dent would later cash in. She felt rather like a matchmaker listening to Rachel avow herself to Dent. And then Dent started to scream - Batman had come for him. At this moment she felt that the Joker deserved applause - he couldn't have possibly known that she'd factor in this, so in the end Bruce would have saved somebody he'd _chosen_ to leave for others. She was sure that would have struck him hard if Rachel were to die today.

And that was her cue to move. She placed a silence spell on the phone and another on the bomb effectively freezing the whole thing with two seconds left on the counter. The wires frizzed a bit, but nothing blew. Yet.

"What?" Rachel's wet sobs stopped as she stared at the timer that had stopped.

"Good evening, Rachel," Bellatrix moved out of the shadows.

"You," Rachel spat, struggling against the ropes that tied her to her chair. "I should have known!"

"Oh?" Bellatrix chose an oil drum that was out of Rachel's spitting range and perched on it. "That sounds interesting. Enlighten me." She didn't know for sure how long the spell would hold. That is - she could cast it permanently, but muggle technology didn't always react positively to magic and while the bomb was rather crude mostly wires and.. oil drums, she really didn't know. And in that moment - it felt exciting not to know. Incredibly reckless, but Bruce couldn't monopolize recklessness all on his own, now could he?

"You and the Joker. You're in this together," Rachel hissed angrily, still struggling against her bonds.

"Have you ever led a case in court?" Bellatrix asked mildly curious thinking about what kind of questioning Rachel could lead if she kept jumping to the wrong conclusions. Assuming that Bellatrix was working with Joker just because she gave off the impression that she couldn't care less whether Rachel lived or died was sloppy deduction work, not an abysmal one, but just lazy.

"What?" Rachel was dumbfounded for a moment.

"Yes, exactly," Bella answered.

Rachel's gaze narrowed gathering the implication. "You're not with Joker," she made a new conclusion a moment later.

Bellatrix nodded. Her services were not for hire.

"Then help me to get out of here!" Rachel demanded pulling at her bonds to accentuate her point.

"Yes, well, now that's a whole other thing," Bellatrix surreptitiously cast a cushioning charm on the drum that she was sitting on and got more comfortable. "I thought I was supposed to save Harvey Dent, but it turns out that Joker has a formidable sense of humour, though he'll probably never know exactly the kind of joke he managed to play on us tonight."

"You won't save me?" Rachel's tone was half incredulous, half resigned.

"I didn't say that," truth is - she couldn't _not_ save Rachel, and it wasn't like that because she was one of those people who just wouldn't think otherwise or because she felt like she needed to prove that she was the bigger woman. No, plain and simple, she couldn't leave Rachel because of Bruce. Human lives mattered to Bruce and in the end, it was such a little thing that made him happy, and Bellatrix liked making Bruce happy.

"What are you saying?" Rachel asked tiredly. In the position she was now, she had nothing. She was two seconds from being dead, but at the same time she knew that Batman had saved Harvey and that made her happy, happier than she thought she should be when facing her own death. "I'm not afraid."

"Then you're a fool," Bellatrix replied quickly and the words struck a chord. She wasn't afraid of Malfoy either. Was she a fool as well? She was sitting on an oil drum, unsure whether her spell would hold to keep her safe, procrastinating and all that just so she could talk to Rachel of all people. _Yes, I'm definitely a fool tonight._

"The worst that will happen is I'll die and Harvey must already think that I'm dead, so, you see," Rachel almost smiled, "there's nothing you can threaten me with, nothing you can do to me."

"How very naive from you," Bellatrix commented. Death was hardly the worst pain in the world. "There are hundreds of things that I could do to you, but I won't, because you're not my problem anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"You're Dent's problem now," Bella grinned. "You promised yourself to him and while words are just words to you, I do believe you'll find it hard to turn him down when he throws himself at you after this _harrowing_ experience."

"Is that what this is? You're jealous?!" Rachel couldn't express her incredulity enough.

" _Jealous_ would mean that I fear that Bruce would ever leave me for you. It's not going to happen. I'm just keeping my end of the bargain," she paused, let the moment stretch and then looked Rachel dead in the eye, "I swore I'd never let you break his heart again."

"You're insane," Rachel spluttered.

"Maybe," she allowed. "It is said that such things run in the family," Bellatrix said only partly meaning it as a joke.

She jumped off the oil drum and removed the spell from the bomb in the space of the few moments it took to make two steps closer to Rachel. Rachel had the time to open her mouth to scream before Bellatrix grasped her shoulder and they Apparated in the wake of an explosion.

BBRBW

After the building exploded Bruce called Bellatrix. Or rather - he tried calling her just as he was patting down Harvey to extinguish the fire burning him. His Bluetooth earpiece was on automatic redial but all he heard amidst Harveys' screams of grief and pain was the solid, emotionless beep of an outgoing connection.

He gave Harvey away to the paramedics as soon as they arrived - which was about ten minutes later. He watched as they loaded him in the ambulance and drove away. He stood as if frozen - the beeping in his ear almost hypnotising. _Why isn't she picking up?_

And then his outgoing call was interrupted by an incoming one. He picked up hurriedly, but it was Gordon's voice that came through. "We didn't make it. Dent's dead."

Bruce swallowed hard. "No, he isn't," he grumbled as Batman. "Joker tricked us. He switched them."

_Thank God._ Gordon couldn't say it, and even in the privacy of his own mind it sounded callous, but Harvey Dent was much more important to Gotham City than his assistant. Harvey Dent was Gotham's white knight. "Is he alright?"

"The paramedics have him. He got burnt."

"But he'll live?" Gordon needed reassurance, he needed to hear that it was going to be okay even if it wouldn't be, and he needed to hear it from Batman.

"He'll live," Bruce confirmed.

Then there was commotion on Gordon's end of the line. With so many explosions going off almost simultaneously, within minutes of one another it was hard to tell which was coming from where and reliable information was only just coming in. "He blew up the precinct."

"What happened?"

"One of the guys we had in the holding cells - he had a bomb. Joker has escaped." _It is as it should have been, it always was part of his plan._ Gordon hated feeling played. All he had done; all he had been through and all he had put his family through - in the end all he got for that was more death.

"We'll catch him again," Bruce said, his voice growling through the mask. Then he dropped the call. This evening had been an exercise in futility, and he hoped that it was just that. He called Bellatrix again. She didn't pick up. He went straight to the penthouse.

The penthouse was empty. Alfred greeted him in the garage just as he arrived and told him straight up front that Bellatrix wasn't there. Bruce still changed out of his armour as fast as he could. For a few moments he entertained the possibility of going to the Tumbler's garage and checking if she was there, or at Wayne Tower, but he knew that she had less and less reason to be at any of those places and out of the two of them - she was the one who could travel just by imagining it in her head.

It was better to stay put. That didn't mean he liked it. He found her phone on the coffee table in the living room space. That answered the question of why she wasn't picking up. _But, where is she?_ It had been twenty? Thirty? Perhaps as much as forty minutes since explosion and he knew for a fact that she wasn't... couldn't be stuck in traffic - all his cars were in the garage.

Then of course there was the question whether Rachel was with her. And if yes, then, where were they? Bruce paced in front of the windows along the whole floor. He was afraid, he was confused and he sure as hell didn't understand. He tried being calm, especially when he saw how Alfred was watching him, but what could possibly take so long? And if either of them was injured? What if.. _What if she didn't make it?_ What if something went wrong and he had sent her to her death? The suspense was killing him.

And then just as he turned Bellatrix appeared in the middle of the room with Rachel in tow. It took him ten steps to reach her and then he clutched her to his chest as if she was the very air he needed to breathe. "Thank God."

Bellatrix winced; his grip was crushing. "So, I was a bit longer than I thought?"

"An hour," his voice came out somewhat strangled. Perhaps it was an hour, perhaps it wasn't. It certainly felt like an eternity. "Where the hell were you?" he asked as he released her.

"Better ask where I was!" Rachel intruded angrily; she had finally gotten over the momentary confusion that the Apparition had left her in. "She put me in a prison cell!"

"It wasn't entirely like that," Bellatrix answered Bruce's questioning gaze.

"She dumped me in a place with no doors and no windows and she left me there for what felt like forever. What if I had run out of air? It was like I escaped one death only to face another!" Rachel dropped in an armchair near Alfred. Finding herself in a dark basement - for the room could hardly be described any other way, had shaken her up more than her previous kidnapping. And then Bellatrix had left, and she'd been there entirely alone.

"Bellatrix..." Bruce started.

"There were some things I had to do, I thought I had the time," she answered vaguely enough. "And you," she whirled to face Rachel, "were never in any danger so stop milking it, your whining is grating on my nerves. It was just a wine cellar."

Bruce's nerves on the other hand were just getting accustomed to the change in the situation. He felt frayed and battered. He stood close to Bellatrix, just because he could, just because she was there. "Don't do that again," he asked quietly.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, "I won't," she promised a moment later. Bellatrix didn't make promises that she knew she would break. But the truth she didn't always comprehend was that – she did not know or foresee everything. She had no idea how soon she would break that promise.

"Where's Harvey?" Rachel asked suddenly.

"He's at the hospital," Bruce answered, keeping his hands Bella's shoulders hugging her close.

"He was hurt?!"

Bruce winced, but before he could answer, Bella gripped his arm, twisting out of his embrace. "Are _you_ hurt?"

Bruce shook his head.

"Mister Dent unfortunately got burned in the accident. He is in a hospital now, in surgery, I believe," Alfred answered instead - laying a comforting hand on Rachel's shoulder.

"I have to see him," Rachel brushed away Alfred's attempt to comfort her as she stood up. "I have to go to him."

"No!" Bruce and Bellatrix spoke almost in unison.

"I have to be with him," Rachel argued, standing straighter.

"You can't help him now, you heard Alfred - he's in surgery now," Bellatrix argued with more patience and understanding than she felt able to display.

"Does he even know I'm okay?" Rachel asked pointedly.

"I don't think so," Bruce replied.

"He doesn't _know_ anything now!" Bellatrix continued. "He's in a surgery. Are you deaf?"

"He'll know I'm there if I'm by his side. He'll feel me," Rachel was sure of that. She had chosen Harvey. Harvey loved her and Bellatrix was right - Rachel couldn't leave him now, not when she had told him she's choosing him over Bruce.

"Ridiculous," Bellatrix muttered. She wasn't going to loudly argue against someone who just wasn't listening to common sense. Bruce reached for her, his hand around her waist to restrain her a bit and to keep her close. They were pulling and pushing at each other in turns – incapable of becoming separated.

"It's too dangerous. You can't go," he explained. "Joker escaped."

"What?" Bellatrix looked up and over her shoulder at him. _What?_

"There was explosion at the precinct. Many people, officers among them, died and the criminal known as Joker escaped custody," Alfred supplied once again.

"So, you see... We don't know who's working for whom anymore or who we can trust. After tonight - it is safer for you if everybody thinks you're dead until this blows over," Bruce continued.

"No," Rachel shook her head. "No, I can't do that. I have a life! And I won't do this to Harvey."

"You are a target because he is a target. You make him vulnerable," Bruce was loath to say that, but that's how it was. It made him think how Bellatrix was his weakness, though she was far more able to protect herself than Rachel. "It's better for everyone if you stay out of sight until Joker is caught again."

At the first moment Rachel wasn't sure how to counter such a statement. "He needs me," she pleaded finally. "You can't let him think I'm dead. I won't let you!" And then she was struck by another thought. "And you need me too! I'm his assistant, I know all our cases forwards and backwards, and I can help! Joker _must_ be working with the mob; you need my knowledge!"

"You're not listening," Bellatrix ground out through her teeth. "The best thing you can do now is lay low."

"And what are _you_ going to do?" Rachel asked snidely. She hated how Bruce formed a team with Bellatrix against her. She was a part of this! They couldn't just dismiss her. She could help, she wanted to help. There were a million things she had to do besides being with Harvey, she couldn't drop everything and pretend to be dead just because it would be more convenient for them.

"Ladies..." Alfred started.

"What's this got to do with me?" Bellatrix was momentarily stupefied. This was hardly a fight – Rachel was being unreasonable.

"Everything," Rachel answered suddenly, angrily, before turning back to entreat Bruce, "I will not hide. I can't. I must see Harvey. I have to know how he is ..."

"He's alive," Bellatrix repeated patiently, interrupting Rachel's rant.

"I have to be with him. I must let him know that I'm ok. And I can help you two. I can help, Bruce, I really can," her tone changed to pleading for a moment before she changed her tactics becoming aggressive and insistent again. "I won't run and hide. Joker doesn't scare me."

At this point Bellatrix would have remarked that that fact only makes Rachel an idiot, but since she had said that the first time Rachel mentioned something along the lines; Bella didn't think it bore repeating after the fifteenth time.

"Stupefy," Bellatrix finally just drew her wand and stunned the woman. Bruce startled, though he had been expecting something - it hadn't been this. Alfred rushed forward catching Rachel before she hit the ground and Bruce, shaken out of his surprise, moved to help him put Rachel on the couch. Alfred went after water and smelling salts while Bruce sat on the edge of couch besides Rachel and glared up at Bellatrix who hadn't moved an inch and wasn't remorseful in the least.

"She was repeating herself. A lot," the witch explained.

"She will wake up," Bruce said, it wasn't a question; it was part of the problem. Batman was his alter-ego to protect the people he cared about, what good was his mask if his friends kept throwing themselves in the path of danger? Whatever reasons Rachel thought she had - he just couldn't stand aside and watch her become a cannon fodder.

"I can take care of it," Bellatrix mentioned thoughtfully.

Bruce looked up. "She won't like it," he said allowing for the possibility and at the same time partially hoping that Bella didn't mean putting Rachel to sleep permanently.

"I'll take care of her. She'll be safe," Bellatrix assured him, moving closer to them.

"You don't have to do this," he whispered as Bellatrix sat on the table beside him and crossed her ankles. Randomly he realized he had never seen her cross her legs one over the other, only ankles.

"Don't mistake me. If I do this, I'm not doing it for her. I'm doing it for you," she said pointedly. It couldn't be stated enough - she didn't give a damn about Rachel, but she gave a hell of a lot about Bruce.

Bruce nodded. "What do you have in mind?"

Bellatrix grinned unreservedly, "At this point, the less you know the better." Quite unintentionally she put a hand on his knee to keep herself more balanced. The jeans he wore were soft and expensive.

Bruce looked back at his witch, "Which means you know that I won't like it and you don't want to tell me." And still he knew that there was nothing he wouldn't forgive her; he'd already forgiven her for the worst – for leaving.

"Perhaps," she allowed squeezing his knee lightly. "I promise you though, she will not be harmed," it was the best promise that she could make.

It all came down to trust and Bruce trusted Bellatrix with everything, "Fine."

BBRBW

"This is going to give you a headache, but I don't care and I'm short on time," Bellatrix didn't apologize before waking Rachel.

Rachel woke with a start and her movements became all the more panicked once she realized that she's in a straitjacket. Then she noticed Bellatrix. "You!" she spat venomously.

" _Obliviate,_ " Bellatrix wasn't going to listen to more of what Rachel had to say. She was quite tired of Rachel's comments already. Most of them were repetitive anyway. "You don't know who you are. You don't know where you're from. You don't remember even your own name. All you know is that feeling deep inside you - like somebody's after you. That you must hide. Blend in. Try to be as unseen as possible, because if they will find you, they will kill you and most of all - you do want to live. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"One day I will come for you...," it was on the very edge of her tongue. _And I'll end you._ "And when I tell you to - you will remember everything up to this moment, but only when I tell you. Clear?"

"Clear."

Rachel's eyes were glazed for a moment, but then Bellatrix sealed and broke the spell. Rachel blinked as her lack of knowledge sat in, then she noticed Bellatrix and shrunk away from her, furrowing into the jacket that bound her as if it could protect her. "Are you one of them? The ones that want me dead?" Rachel asked.

Bellatrix smiled kindly. "No. But I will come to bring you home once they are gone. Deal?"

"Deal," Rachel whispered as if even breathing too loud would give her position away to those that hunted her thus signing her death sentence.

"Good," Bellatrix was satisfied. She signalled the nurses and they opened door so she could exit. She didn't look back to see Rachel huddling in the corner of the white, padded room as she left the high-class private mental institution in Montreal.

BBRBW

"How did it go?" Bruce greeted her with an open bottle of reasonably chilled Sauvignon Blanc.

"How do you think?" she took the glass he offered and settled beside him on the couch. Outside Gotham was just starting to wake. Red tail of the rising sun was colouring the eastern horizon, it was long past sunrise. Their night was gone.

He winced sympathetically and didn't comment, "You have to go soon?" He also knew what the morning meant. It made him think back to that time all those years ago when he'd thought he'd never see her again, somehow - this felt eerily similar.

"Mhm," she took a sip of the wine and spit it back out. “Ugh!”

“You okay?” he took the glass from her, placed it away, and leaned closer to check her over.

"Yes," she answered confused. Lately wine held no taste for her.

"Coffee might have been better?" he smiled a bit and tried his own glass. “It seems fine. Are you sure you’re...”

Bellatrix shook her head. "Wine is perfect, I don’t know, I just seem to have lost taste for it,” she wouldn’t have bought a bad vineyard. She had bought it precisely because she liked the product. But it wasn’t the most important issue for now.

"You will come back?" he couldn't refrain from asking.

"Of course," she replied as if the question was ridiculous, but that reminded her of something. She pulled away a bit and burrowed in her coat's pocket for something. She drew out a miniature box and then shook her hand to shake her wand loose; it slid into her palm and she taped the box once and it grew as big as a moderate jewellery box. She pushed it towards Bruce. "Open it," she encouraged.

He pulled the box in his lap and looked first at it - then at Bellatrix questioningly. "What is it?"

She smiled. "The reason why I was late," she explained.

Even more curious he tentatively opened the box and neatly arranged in rows various glass vials with old fashioned cork stoppers popped up with long pieces of parchment attached to their necks. "What is this?" he asked picking out one of the bottles. It was undoubtedly magical.

"It's a Healing kit with specifically assembled potions that I chose for you," she explained. "There was no reason getting a standard box when you're unlikely to ever mistransfigure or splinch yourself while it seemed prudent to stock up on something against cold, bruises, broken bones, cuts and near-death-experiences."

He looked at her, speechless for a moment. Bellatrix licked her bottom lip; she certainly wasn't nervous. "I honestly didn't think that it would take as long as it did, but the Apothecary was ancient, and she moved … Well, she barely moved at all, but since I was there, I wasn't ..."

"You went to London? To get this?" he interrupted her.

"Liverpool, actually," she replied frowning slightly. It's not like she was very familiar with the magical communities on this continent. As a Minister she had dealt with the leaders of this country, but she had never had time for a visit, and with that Daryn Hughes around she didn't want to run into a new problem before she had dealt with all the rest. Liverpool was convenient and for a short visit - seemed safe enough.

"It's amazing," he said and laughed, a bit unexpectedly, but relief and joy to him tasted like laughter. "You're amazing," he leaned sideways for a kiss that would go with the gift.

BBRBW

Bellatrix Apparated lazily into the entrance hall of her father's manor. It was but a moment before a house elf appeared with a soft pop. The house elf appeared in tears, violently pulling her own ears, wailing in distress, "I don't knows what to do, Mistress Trixy! I don't knows! Master is being attacked, what should I do? What do I do? Nobody tells Nerra anything!"

It took her but a second to process what she saw and take into account the burn marks that curses had left on the walls, to notice that the sofa in the hallway was on fire. "Get Sirius," she ordered. The small coffee table lay broken on the floor, pieces of wood mingling with the remains of the vases that her mother had specifically picked when she designed the interior of the hallway. Sometime during her observation, she had already drawn her wand.

The grand staircase lead upstairs. Wide archways connected the hallway to both living room on the left and drawing room on the right leading to different wings of the manor. Oh, why she hadn't asked the elf where her father was?! It was the paintings that pointed her in the right direction. Her mother's image run into a painting of rolling hills, appearing for the first time in years, and warned her to be careful. _I'm always careful._

She rushed through the drawing room, through the breakfast lounge where mother's favourite china was and where they always took their breakfast as kids. The porcelain was broken because a curse had struck the case holding it. Thousand little pieces of ceramic were scattered over the furniture and the floor. She didn't pause. She kept opening the next doors and the next. Every door was closed and locked, but not sealed. She rushed through; careless with the magic she pushed forth slamming every next door harder than the previous one. The last thundered as it hit the walls and broke off the hinges.

It was dark in the veranda; the late autumn sun was going down. Glass rained as her father and his assailant exchanged curses. It took a moment to understand why her father was using mostly defensive spells. The light hair of the witch that attacked him glowed like silver in the moonlight. And then the woman turned casting a flesh-eating curse at Bellatrix. _Narcissa._

Cygnus attracted Narcissa's attention with a stronger curse than he had used before - bone breaking curse - while Bellatrix rose from the debris where she had dived for cover from the sudden attack. Her father kept retreating while Narcissa attacked in a flurry of furious action casting spell after spell as if she didn't fear exhausting herself.

A cutting curse, a bone breaking curse, a torture spell, a vacuum spell that would suck the air out of its victim's lungs, and then Narcissa turned and cast already in half a turn at her sister, a fire spell, a cutting curse, a bone breaking curse, a torture spell, she turned again, keeping up a rotating shield all the time. She was furious as an autumn storm at sea. She was as deadly as a storm. She was also overextending herself.

Bellatrix weathered the attack behind a powerful shield that shuddered and only collapsed after the bone breaking curse. She dived away again slipping on the broken glass and catching the tail end of a torture spell as she fell. The glass as it cut through her clothes and into her skin hurt more than the tail end of a spell that would build a slow fever and rise to boil her blood from inside without a counter spell. She gasped arching as small, sharp pieces of glass burrowed into her skin. A larger shard was stuck into her forearm, damaging the nerve.

Cygnus was a businessman not a warrior, but his shields held, as he carefully alternated between magical and physical shields throwing pieces of furniture in way of Narcissa's spells, reluctant to return the fire. Bellatrix on the other hand, having received one off-handed hit had had quite enough.

Cygnus saw Bella rising and he guessed her intention, "Stupefy," he shouted, but Bellatrix was faster, "Avada Kedavra!"

The blonde froze mid-turn and dropped bonelessly to the ground. The stunning spell hit Bella’s shield. Bellatrix who had managed to get half-way up slumped gratefully back down to the floor. Cygnus stood frozen on the spot.

"Bellatrix!" he couldn't keep the distress from his voice.

"It's not Narcissa," she said grasping the piece of glass stuck in her hand and giving it a rough tug, pulling it out. _AAAAaaargh,_ she bit her bottom lip till it bled. Fresh blood poured forth from her arm as she dropped the shard and grasped the wound to try to stem the flow of blood.

"I know, darling, I know, but...," he called a house elf and demanded healing supplies. He _had_ known that it wasn't his own daughter attacking him, but still - it had been her, her face at least and he couldn't just dismiss it. It had taken him less than a minute to realize that the creature he had let into his house was not his youngest child, but by then it had already been too late.

The fact that his attacker wore his daughter's face, it just stopped him, he couldn't hurt his child even if he knew on an intellectual level that it wasn't his baby girl. Not to mention that to have Narcissa’s likeness – whoever this was, had to have the real Narcissa as well.

"Yes," Bellatrix agreed to something, she was losing the thread of the conversation and a fair amount of blood.

"Here," she hadn't noticed when the house elf had reappeared but at that moment her father was pressing a vial to her lips and the potion inside smelled suspiciously like blood supplements.

She drank and tried not to spit it all up. Cygnus cast a spell to heal the hundreds of little cuts from the glass and then he helped her rise before he checked for the correct counter curse to the one she had been hit. Within minutes she was tired, but once again in one piece.

"I told you to be careful!" her mother unexpectedly appeared in a painting right next to the sofa she was resting on.

"I was..." she meant to continue, but the sofa was soft, and the blood potion still hadn't replaced all that she had lost. Her eyes were open, but she felt like drifting off.

"Barging in and getting hit within the first ten seconds is something you call careful?" her mother's nose appeared squashed in the painting as if she had pressed it against invisible glass. Absent-mindedly Bellatrix noted that magical paintings would greatly benefit from a 3D effect.

"What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want to …" her mother spluttered before going off on a rant about irresponsibility, recklessness and just plain bad judgment.

Cygnus moved to the other room to start picking up pieces of Druella's china by himself. It was hard for him to see his wife's portrait when he knew he would never see her living self again. He preferred inanimate objects that reminded him of her rather than paintings. He did listen with half an ear to the lecture that Druella was giving Bellatrix. That painting had been painted when Bellatrix was a trouble making nine-year-old and the mother in the painting would forever be stuck on time when her little girl was nine.

Bellatrix clenched her wand in her palm and tried to refrain from the urge to forcibly shut her mother's painting up. That talking picture felt nothing more like a caricature of who her mother had been. The constant flow of words was almost lulling if she didn't listen to the particulars, though. Instead she stared at her sister's dead face. Their father had put her body on the table - the only unbroken piece of furniture aside from the sofa - and Bellatrix could see her perfectly. It wasn't Narcissa, yet it was eerie. She could understand why her father had hesitated.

"How did you know?" Cygnus asked, standing in the door.

Bellatrix looked up suddenly. "What?"

"How did you know it wasn't our Narcissa?" he couldn't explain how he'd known - it was the way she talked when she entered, the way she moved, the way she seemed as foreign as she had never seemed even when she'd left this house claiming it had never been her home.

"The doors," she replied. "They were locked not sealed. You would have sealed them to prevent anyone else following you and cornering you if you had locked them, so it must have been her. Whoever she is - she didn't seal them, because she couldn't. Narcissa could have done so, she's still keyed into the wards," Bellatrix didn't mention the metamorphmagus who had been captured as Lucius Malfoy. "If she went to the trouble of locking them, she would have sealed them. If she could," her tongue seemed clumsy in her mouth as she realized she was repeating herself.

"And if they had been sealed?" Cygnus asked leaning against the doorframe. It wasn't the _what-if_ that concerned him as much whether Bellatrix had made her decision truly because it was the logical choice or whether she had made it just because she felt like it and it was a convenient and acceptable solution? What _was_ acceptable to her?

"But they weren't," she did not want to be pulled in a pointless discussion that would undoubtedly lead to another conversation about how bad her relationship with Narcissa is.

"What if they had been?" he pressed.

_I would have killed her anyway._ "She was attacking you," and to Bellatrix that answered everything.

"Bellatrix..."

Bellatrix did not want to pursue a hypothetical, useless conversation and even less she wanted to be pulled in a discussion about Narcissa herself. She knew that their relationship was bad and upon reflection she was reasonably sure she knew why, and it was the last thing she wanted to talk about. To tell the truth, she was angry with Narcissa and it was hard to get over it. She wasn't sure she could do it, to tell the truth. It may be harsh, but Bellatrix had never liked her sister. Therefore, Bellatrix tried to focus on one thing at a time.

She rose to put some physical distance between herself and the conversation and took a few steps around the veranda to take in the devastation. The plants were as good as dead; there were only two pieces of furniture still whole and the glass doors, floor-to-ceiling windows and the glass roof were all in a million pieces at her feet. She needed a plan of action. They needed a plan of action.

She hummed quietly under her breath. "They did attack you so technically not much tweaking is required, all we have to do is let everybody know that they succeeded..," her voice was quiet she was more talking to herself than telling anybody else, spinning a tale that she wanted to present to the world.

"Has this become a solution to your every problem?" Cygnus had moved further into the room to be near Bellatrix. It was hard to look at Narcissa and in background there was still the ranting of his wife's portrait. _Bad parent,_ she called him. He was. The painting was painted when Bellatrix was nine and he'd given her a broom and she'd fallen. Druella had been angry as she sat down for the painting and her words were out of context, but they still fit. She had put this portrait away when it had been finished, but a picture was not required to stay in the frame wherever it was.

"What do you mean, Father?" Bellatrix looked at him curiously.

"There's a situation. You're uncertain about how to deal with it. You decide to fake a death," he did not want to relive the first time he'd heard of her untimely demise. It had been Andromeda who'd called to calm him nearly a day later.

"I'm not faking my death, I'm faking yours," she argued not seeing the problem.

"Semantics," he replied. "I'm concerned, dear," he'd done all he could to teach her, to help her grow up and do it fast, because that was the only way to stay ahead of Voldemort, to help her stay herself. All he'd done he had done for his family to give them a fighting chance, to help them survive and now, nearly thirty years after that visit to Madam Mynatt he still wasn't sure if he had succeeded.

The prophet had told him that his family would die with him. Bellatrix wasn't lost to him, not in the manner the witch had said, but she was still outside his reach of influence. He had raised her to know how to take control and that's exactly what she did. Narcissa _was_ lost to him though he believed her to be healthy and well with his grandson. And Andromeda... By certain laws he shouldn't even be allowed to call her his daughter anymore.

"Don't worry, Father. I know what I'm doing," Bellatrix's tone was measured and reassuring, allowing no room for argument.

"That's what I'm worried about. This is becoming a bad habit of yours."

"This is the best option," she brushed away his concern, drawing out her wand and starting to rearrange the mess in veranda to comply with her imagined battle scenario to show that there had been only two not three combatants.

"One-time people will stop believing it," he pointed out.

"Then I'll apply other methods," she argued carelessly. "Besides there will always be those who'll believe a good death."

"I suppose this is my fault in a sense. I taught you how to do this."

Bellatrix frowned. She supposed her father was referring to how he helped her disappear when she finished Hogwarts. "No, Father," she said softly, affectionately finally turning her full attention to him. "You taught me how to survive."

"Bellatrix!" Sirius cried barging in and skidding to a sudden halt once he saw her and his uncle. "I came as soon as I heard. Are you okay?" she looked like she'd been through a literal bloodbath, only then he remembered about Cygnus, "Lord Black and you? Are you okay?" Seeing them both alive and calm startled him into momentarily forgetting about the Aurors that were supposed to be Apparating in right on his heels.

"I'm fine, thank you for inquiring, Minister," Cygnus replied rather formally. "Though my daughter believes me to be dead."

"What?" Sirius liked to think he didn't blink like an owl, but he liked to believe many other things that equally weren't quite true.

"I think he should be dead. Officially," Bellatrix said finishing rearranging the debris in the veranda.

"Why?" Sirius watched his cousin intently and with concern. He never liked it when she started talking about death.

"Because of Narcissa," Bellatrix glanced rather obviously at the cadaver and Sirius understood the hint a moment later.

"Shit," he cursed as he realized what he was seeing. "Is that... Is that Cissy?"

"No," Bellatrix replied pocketing her wand. "And I don't want it to become her so it's better if Father is dead as far as anyone, but us is concerned. Understood?"

"But..." Sirius frowned not quite understanding how those two things were connected.

"Narcissa won't thank you," Cygnus spoke guessing his daughter's mind.

Bellatrix smiled, lopsidedly, "She just might."

Sirius looked disbelieving, but before he could comment Bellatrix continued, "Even if she won't. She'll live. And Father will live. And that's a lot from where I'm standing."

"Of course, it is," Sirius agreed wholeheartedly. "And the majority of the population will believe whatever we want them to believe, but … Not Malfoy," he paused. "A print in the paper will not convince him and to be honest, he's been a step ahead of us this whole time and with his … _that_ ," he pointed at Narcissa, "dead, we don't even have a minion to brainwash to lie to him for us. I just don't see how …"

Bellatrix glanced over her shoulder at her sister's dead body, thinking. A metamorphmagus transformation transforms every cell to the smallest unit to be identical to its target form the same as Polyjuice potion does, but just like it's impossible to use the parts of a Polyjuiced person to create more of the same potion, there was no use from the dead metamorphmagus, because essentially the form was empty. There were no magical properties - the hair couldn't be used to make a Polyjuice and assume the form, the blood couldn't be used to sign contracts - it was essentially a useless, dead body. "You still have all of Narcissa's things, right, Father?" she asked turning to Cygnus.

"Yes," he replied warily.

"What are you planning?" Sirius asked.

"You'll see," Bellatrix answered. "I can trust you to handle this?" she indicated the room and the mess, she didn't like dividing responsibility, but time was pressing and Sirius... Well, she wouldn't trust him with everything, but she felt like she could trust him with _something_ , because if she couldn't then... What the bloody hell the last few years had been for?

"Of course," he agreed readily.

"Good," she smiled. "Thank you," she said before squeezing his shoulder as she passed on her way out.

"You didn't answer," he turned with her, not quite done with this conversation. "What are you planning?"

"You'll see," she winked. She always felt a rush when she had a plan, she was sure would work out.

Sirius chuckled before pausing as he remembered that he hadn't ridden to the rescue alone. He _had_ called for backup before leaving the Ministry. Aurors should be long here by now. "Any of you want to elaborate why my Aurors are not storming this place yet? Because I didn't come alone, I'm sure of that."

There was a time when upon receiving a call for help, he would have dropped everything to run into the situation head-first, but if there was something he'd learned from working with his cousin the last few years, it was that there always should be a backup - whether a plan, army or a trump card up his sleeve, but always some kind of a safety net. He'd lived most of his life with the certainty that he would give his life for his friends, and he still would - in an instant, but he'd realized that putting his life on the table wasn't always necessary and that his life was important too.

"Oh," Bellatrix noted. _Right._ She had completely forgotten, "The place is warded against unwanted visitors, it's either they're let through the main door or they remain behind them. Nerra called you and let you in, but I forgot to tell her to let the Aurors in too."

"That doesn't seem... legal," Sirius said tentatively glancing outside the window. They were too far in the East Wing, but he could perfectly imagine a group of wizards dressed for battle uselessly battering against the goblin warded door.

"Oh, it perfectly is. I made it so when I became Minister," Bellatrix explained before turning on her heel and leaving back through the path of destruction that she had come in on. “It’s in the law about protection of ancient houses and private property.”

Sirius made a mental note to carefully examine every notion Bellatrix had introduced to the legislature. He had a bad feeling there were many more loopholes and traps she had put in there than he had noticed in the first place. "So... Should they be sent home, or can they actually do their jobs?" he called after her.

Bellatrix didn't look around. "Just handle it," she waved her hand to accentuate her point as she walked away. It was a sign of trust.


End file.
